Sparkle, Sheen
by Cardio Necrosis
Summary: Wishes are harmless. Sure. So are Mary Sues, overused cliches, and OoCness. You know that saying, if wishes were horses we’d all take a ride? Yeah, right. If wishes were horses, people would run screaming in the opposite direction and never touch a saddle
1. If Wishes Were Horses

**Disclaimer: Because God is a cruel, cruel bully with a vendetta against me, I do not own BtVS, or even AtS, or really, any of the TV shows or books I mention in this fic. _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_ belongs to Joss Whedon, as do all of the characters. It also belongs to Mutant Enemy, Fox, WB, and UPN. Probably loads of others as well. This is just fanfic, stuff that I write to pass the time, because I'm a lonely spinster with forty-seven cats and no real life to speak of. Just kidding--I'm quite a bit younger than that (I'm only twenty) and only own two cats. So please, don't sue me, for I have measly earnings. In fact, the only thing I have of any worth whatsoever would be my laptop, who is named Clark--after Clark Kent. My computer is just about as useful as Clark, and about as entertaining as well. Lexcorp forever!**

**Disclaimer Part Deux: Clark Kent and Lexcorp don't belong to me either. Although Lex rocks one thousands of my socks, I am NOT a DC Fan, and so I'm actually quite pleased with this information.**

**Disclaimer, Yet Again: Doogie Howser doesn't belong to me either.**

**A/N--Bet you're getting tired of all these bold letters. But anyway, just so you know, this is a PARODY. As in, not to be taken seriously. I am not poking fun at any story in particular, just cliches. Are all cliches bad? No. Of course not. But can they get over-used and annoying? Yes. If anything, I am making fun of stories I wrote when I was thirteen, and thankfully, never published. Also, this is a sequel of sorts to my other parody, _Fighting Fire With Fire: Shameless Self-Insertion,_ although you don't have to read that in order to understand this. Anything you need to know will be mentioned, although if you want, I wouldn't mind if you did read it. --nudge nudge, wink wink--**

**Sparkle, Sheen**

**Prologue: If Wishes Were Horses . . .**

My mother used to always have these little sayings that she just loved to repeat and pound into my head. It was sorta like her thing. If I didn't do very well at something, it was "if at first you didn't succeed, try, try again." If I have a really crappy day at school or a guy dumped me or I had the worst possible thing that could've ever happened to me happen and I sobbed on her chest looking for comfort, she'd calmly nod, spout of some ridiculous piece of crap she probably got off of a fortune cookie, and tell me to stop whining.

I mean, how the hell does that help anyone? When I lost my virginity to a guy I'd been dating for three months, and the next day the guy dumped me in front of all of his pals and said "Thanks for a good time, babe, but really, I'm not into skanks" you know what she told me?

"Look before you leap."

Yes, Mother, because what frogs tell their little tadpole children when teaching them to go from one lily-pad to the next really has profound value in my sex life.

When I got a ticket for going five miles over the speed limit, you know what she said? "A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush." Well, really, that's fantastic, Mother, thank you for giving me hunting tips while I waste my pay check on a speeding ticket. Really. That helps _so much._

When I found out one of my trusted friends was cheating with my boyfriend of one year, it was; "Birds of a feather flock together." When I got in a huge fight with my best friend and she refused to talk to me for a whole week (which really isn't too bad, I guess, but still, it was hell for me during the time) it was; "Make sure your words are always sweet; you'll never know the ones you'll have to eat."

If I flirted with someone and it didn't go as I'd planned: "You attract more flies with honey than vinegar." Why do I give a rat's ass about flies?

It drove me insane. I hated her. As far as she was concerned, I barely existed to her. She'd spout of some nonsensical bull crap like she was some sort of genius who always knew the right answer on how to live her life, then go snort some crack and have some Chinese takeout.

Oh, I could just imagine all that crap she'd say about my current predicament.

_With great power comes great responsibility._

_Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely._

_Pride comes before the fall._

Oh, yeah, it was real easy for her to give out the advice and tell others how to live their lives when the only advice she ever followed was don't mix uppers with downers, pluck out the seeds before you smoke it, and never watch Willy Wonka unless you want a really bad acid trip.

But I guess I can't hate her too much. After all, it's because of her I was a vengeance demon, and until just recently, I loved being a vengeance demon.

So, why did I become a vengeance demon? It's a popular question amongst people who know of our kind. Was it because my little sister wanted to copy mommy and killed herself by injecting heroin into her veins when she was only six years old? No, actually, although I really did hate my mom after that. Was it because of the whole advice giving thing that pissed me off to no end? Nope, not really.

To be honest, it was a multitude of things. No one becomes a vengeance demon because of one simple thing. It's the straw that breaks the camel's back (and there I go with more sayings--as much as I hate it, I guess it rubbed off on me) that turns you. It's not the heroin incident that killed your sister, it's not the "children are better seen and not heard" bull crap while your mommy locks you in a closet for hours, and it's not the whippings, or really bad first times, or getting dumped, or bitch friends, or any of that.

It's the simple crap.

It's the little stuff that pushes you over and makes you go insane. It's that last final blow to your ego that makes you go blundering into every occult store you can find, searching the Witches' Black Market, and going to every underground demon dealer, even to the ones your mother buys her demon drugs, until you find a book of curses.

And the little thing that made me lose it? The straw that broke my camel's back? The thing that made my anger burst into a fiery rage so loud it grabbed D'Hoffryn's attention?

Really crappy fanfiction.

I loved Doogie Howser so much I read and wrote fanfiction. I had my favourite stories and my favourite authors--Doctor Red was just amazing--but there were, of course, the stinkers. The real pieces of crap written by horny thirteen year olds whose ideas of male genitalia were concocted of what they saw on their brothers' GI Joes and who understood sex about as much as kittens understand quantum physics.

There were fics where the author tried to write a medical emergency surgery story when their knowledge of first aid was basically how to apply a Band-Aid. There were AU stories where Doogie Howser was a knight in shining armour living in a castle in the author's representation of the Middle Ages. There were stories where all the characters were so out-of-character they might as well have been original characters who happened to share the names of those on the show. I'll tell you what, I read some that were so horrible my eyes would have bled if physically possible. I was never rude--I gave my honest opinion and tried to help them--give them my advice so they could work on it. I _never_ flamed, just said what I thought they needed to work on.

Sure, I'd get the bitchy email declaring that if I was such an expert on writing fanfic, why didn't I post my own? That I was a fascist bitch with no idea of what good writing was, and it wasn't my business to tell them what to do with their characters. But still, nothing out of the normal.

And then the worst happened.

I read the worst possible fanfiction known to mankind. Imagine the crappiest fanfic you've ever come across--the one that gives you nightmares when you think about it. The one that almost made you claw your eyes out so you would ever have to be subjected to reading horrible crap again. Now take that and multiply it by ten. Nobody could write something worse than it even if they tried. Oh my God, it was so screwed up. You do know the premise of Doogie Howser, right? It's about a prodigy _child_ who becomes a doctor at sixteen. Sixteen, people.

And this story had a blatant self-insert Mary Sue bitch who could fly, heal wounds with her hands, and turn every male and female she passed into a gooey mess of hormonal butter. She ended up having sex with Doogie in every single inch of the hospital, and town as well. In public. She even got him involved in several threesomes and orgies. The worst part of it was, the character was in her late thirties! I've read some fics with an older character falling for a younger character; that wasn't what angered me--some of those are really well-written, and _Lolita_ never disturbed me. It was just the whole thing came off as creepy.

Doogie started doing all sorts of drugs, and the fic praised the drugs like they were God's gift to humankind. He become some sick sadistic freak who quit his job and joined his girlfriend in her job of being an assassin, and the two of them pillaged a town I thought sounded vaguely familiar, and did unspeakable things to their victims and then had sex in the leftover blood. It was like a train wreck--I couldn't look away. There were author's notes in the middle of the story, there were links to pictures she'd drawn of her favourite scenes, and she insulted her reviewers if they didn't have something nice to say.

Suffice to say, I couldn't let it go without giving criticism. I tried to be as helpful as I could and try not to sound like too much of a bitch.

And suddenly, I was getting flames from the author on every single chapter of my fanfics. Then I started getting abusive emails. Then I got a virus.

I was so angry, because I lost nearly all of my reviewers. My computer crashed, and all my files were erased. I had X-Files fics and pictures, I had poems I liked--everything was on that computer. Assignments that I needed to turn in if I wanted to graduate my final year in high school . . . I was pissed off.

But the thing that angered me the most was on the last email the author gave me, when I asked why she had targeted me so, and she responded with; "Make sure all your words are sweet; you'll never know the ones you'll have to eat."

I asked my mother what her email address was.

Bingo.

When I confronted her, she said most of her fanfic had been written when she was on a bad acid trip, and that she didn't appreciate me criticizing it as I had--after all, she was high when she wrote it, as she explained several times through the fic, and could not be blamed for how I thought it was. That I had no right telling her how to play with the characters.

So I tortured her mercilessly and re-enacted every single thing she did to her and Doogie's victims in her crappy fanfic. I used magicks to keep her alive. I'll admit that I was probably angrier about every other thing she'd ever done to me, but that latest slight was still fresh in my mind.

Then when I was done, I turned her into a fortune cookie. I don't know what the paper said--I threw the cookie into a garbage can.

So yeah, that got D'Hoffryn's attention.

I was turned in the mid-nineties, so I guess I'm kinda new to the vengeance thing. But I was a quick learner. Or at least, that was what D'Hoffryn said. He gave me my vengeance name, and I went around the land granting wishes.

Vengeance was like a masturbatory drug for me. Nothing made me more excited than granting wishes--it was like pleasing myself in the privacy of my own room, knowing that nobody knew what I was doing except me, playing out the fantasies as I wanted them to go. It was addictive. It was great. It gave me a somewhat voyeuristic thrill watching as people's lives went to hell all because they got what they wished for.

People told me that I needed to back down a bit. They told me it was getting to my head--that eventually, everything was going to backfire. Everyone except D'Hoffryn. He told me that he had high hopes for me, that the others were just jealous, and I'll admit, that probably didn't help my ego any. It got to my head. Like those annoying fanfic authors who go on and on about how wonderful their stories are and eventually just stop trying to make it good because they're so used to getting praised.

See, it's hard to be the best when you're new at something, and you've got vengeance demons like Anyanka who totally live for what they do. It's hard to top someone like that. It's hard to please D'Hoffryn when his favourite decides to take back a spectacular wish. And maybe he was trying to replace her with me--that's what all the others said. "You think he wants you? You think he's praising you? Ha! He just wants you to be like Anyanka!"

I didn't care.

Being a vengeance demon, I could create other worlds, or even visit other dimensions like most people go next door to have coffee with their neighbours. To be honest, I'd only created one alternate reality, but that sort of thing takes a lot of effort and the right wish. You can't just go and create an alternate reality all willy nilly, even if you can visit any one that you want.

Anyway, one day when I was visiting a dimension just to get away from the other vengeance demons (in this reality, vengeance demons didn't exist, nor did most of the stuff I was used to) I found this TV show called _Buffy_ and realized that it was a portrayal of _my_ universe!

You don't know creepy until you go somewhere and find out that your reality is being told like it's a story to a bunch of people who don't believe in that sort of thing because, hey, it doesn't exist where they're from.

And you know what really pissed me off?

It was all about some bitch who went around killing demons. And I was demon. And the screwed up thing was, it was true! In my reality, she really existed. I came across the box set of the whole show and sat through the whole thing. It took a good long while, but it got me addicted.

And I started reading fanfic.

And just like any other fandom, some fics were good. But others were bad.

I suppose Anyanka's death and how everyone grieved over it even in this dimension, as if I hadn't gotten enough of that back home, sorta pissed me off. I guess it sort of . . . made me more competitive. I hadn't been mentioned once in the entire show, but that stupid annoying prissy little bitch Halfrek had, and her idea of an interesting tale of vengeance was giving some idiot paper cuts whenever he filled out a check. Yes, that would be annoying, but come on--how did she get a mention and not me? I mean, I get why Anyanka got to be on it--she did enter our heroine's life, after all. But not one mention of me by D'Hoffryn, or by "Anya" herself? I had spoken to Anya! We'd gone to parties together!

I had done some damn interesting things! An English major wished she could be as inventive with words as Shakespeare was, so I cursed her so that for the rest of her life she had to speak in iambic pentameter in sonnet format. Once, I had every person in a party have their stomachs explode and die a gruesome, slow death--I couldn't even remember the wish on that one. I'd sent a bigot to a work camp during the Holocaust, I had someone eaten alive by crickets . . . I'd performed some damn good vengeance, talked with Anyanka and Halfrek, and I wasn't even _alluded_ to!

Everywhere I went, it was Anyanka this, and Anyanka that, and you'll never be as good as her, and D'Hoffryn only wants to replace her, and blah, blah, blah. I try to get away from it all, and what do I find? The best damn show I've ever seen, and even then I can't get away from her.

I wanted to do something awesome.

I wanted to show the bitch up.

So I granted some wishes, went home, granted some more, travelled between dimensions so I could write fanfic, performed nasty vengeance, and write more fic. I read fic, too. I pretty much lived for vengeance and fanfiction--I hadn't been excited about a show since Doogie, and I was glad to have found something I could write about again.

Then it happened.

You know that saying, if wishes were horses we'd all take a ride? Yeah, right. If wishes were horses, people would run screaming in the opposite direction and never touch a saddle.

If I could take it back I would. If I had known all the trouble it would have caused, I wouldn't have done it. I would have turned away and walked off. I wouldn't have talked to her in the first place.

I don't understand how it went so badly.

And I couldn't take the wish back--not unless I wanted to die, and I really didn't want to die. Besides, even if I did, D'Hoffryn couldn't do a damn thing. He was affected by the spell, too. Everyone was. Only two people could fix the problem, and to be honest, I wasn't even sure if they could. There were things that even they didn't understand--things they couldn't have understood.

I had been shopping for a new shirt. D'Hoffryn had been quite pleased with my granting wishes in both worlds, and I was giddy with the compliment, and had gone straight in the dimension with the TV show to post the next chapter to my fic (which, I'd admit, had a fair bit of Anya bashing.)

I heard a girl talking. She had a British accent, and it intrigued me. She was complaining about something with her brother, and when I heard her mention "that Mary Sue bitch" I was interested. I started up a conversation with her, and things were going fine.

Apparently they were going on about how they'd ended up in California all because of some girl they hated who was a really crappy fanfic writer, and had apparently canon-raped the Potterverse. She'd written really crappy Buffy fic, too. We started talking some more.

And then, she made a wish.

And, stupid me, saw it as an opportunity to top Anyanka; to make a whole new dimension; to really screw with the girl.

Well, problem was, it didn't create a new dimension.

It just screwed up the one I was from.

Royally.

* * *

A/N--How's that for a mighty fine prologue? Are you interested? Just for your info--parts of this will be in third person, and other parts will be in first. Also, ANY OoC-ness is intentional, poppets.


	2. I'd Be Eatin' Steak!

**A/N: Much of this chapter is exposition, and also, spoilers for my first parody, _Fighting Fire With Fire: Shameless Self-Insertion._ Now, if you are one of those people--like me--who avoid spoilers like the plague, and are considering reading my first parody, now would be the time to do so. If not, this chapter serves as a short recap of what went in in my self-insertive characters' lives before, in the Potterverse. I tried to keep the spoilers vague enough not to be mind-blowing (so, Darth Vader is Luke's dad right? Luke and Leia are twins? Bruce Willis _is_ dead people? On that subject, so is soylent green? Wow!) but enough so you know what you missed, in case you're not interested.**

**Did I mention this was a parody? As in, not to be taken seriously?**

**Chapter One: . . . I'd Be Eatin' Steak**

_Anne_

"Oh, come on, come on, that shirt is so cute! Let's go!" Susan shouted, grabbing my wrist roughly and starting to pull me towards the shirt she thought was awesome. I yanked my wrist out of her grasp and scowled at her retreating form and at the way her long black hair danced around her head as she ran off.

It was simply because we were in California that the bint could get away with wearing a spaghetti-strapped black shirt with this odd red see-through poncho over it in December. She thought it was perfect temperature for Christmas. I was nearly dying because of how hot it was. Then again, I was used to England's weather. When she was in England, she always complained about how cold it was. Kurt was wearing a baggy AC/DC t-shirt and baggy pants, which was the thinnest shirt he could find, and I was wearing a white spaghetti-stringed shirt and a red-and-black schoolgirl skirt that ended an inch or so above my knee. I had bought it in October because I'd been planning to go as a dead schoolgirl, and it had been the longest one. I didn't really like to show off my legs, but when I realized how hot the place was, I'd been forced to put it on, and so I kept feeling a little self-conscious about showing of my legs, and the fact that my Doc Martins were a lot hotter than I'd expected them to be. I had brought sandals, but Susan's dog chewed them up.

Kurt and I shared a glare, then slowly walked after her. I didn't mind the shirt. In fact, I didn't really have a problem going to the store. What I had a problem with was going there with Susan, the Raven-Sue creator bitch from hell.

Luckily, I'd managed to get a week off from work for vacation, and trust me, not because I wanted to. In fact, I had the feeling I was seriously going to dread it.

I hated Susan. It was because of her ho-ass that I'd been dragged into the Potterverse. Sure, I'd snogged Snape a few times, but not because he actually liked me or anything--it was all due to that stupid piece of crap Marriage Law. I mean, he thought I was okay, but it wasn't like he loved me or anything, and trust me, it was not fun at all having to deal with his moods swings and be sent back in time and have to watch Voldemort get in a fight with a giant penis and a giant vagina . . . Yeah, it was beyond screwed up. Even if I had created Penis Man™ and Vagina Girl™ to promote abstinence (trust me, I really did) that did not mean I wanted to see them prancing about in the Potterverse.

Due to the location of the moon in our universe and the Potterverse and the fact Susan was writing the fanfic when she was visiting her cousin (who lives next door to us in England) it created this whole screwed up universe where the Potterverse was imploding in on itself or something and so Voldemort and Dumbledore brought my brother and me to their universe to help fix it. Trust me, it was confusing as hell, and because of Susan (who created this god-awful bitch of a Sue named Raven Ebony Persephone Perdita Prince) my brother had been killed by Bellatrix, even though they'd been having sex the whole time. That was pretty much the one thing I could never forgive Susan for--the fact she wrote my brother being killed, even if it was some twisted way of her trying to show off her awesome healing powers and the fact she was such a good person for reviving someone she hated.

Granted, Susan wasn't aware of what she was doing--it wasn't like she'd done it on purpose, but even _after_ she realized what was going on she still kept putting us through all of this god-awful crap--like a Time Turner plot from hell, and being nearly killed by Voldemort, and just a bunch of other crap that was uncalled for. It all worked out in the end, and everyone got a happy ending, but still, there's only so much a person can take without despising a bitch.

So why the hell was I halfway across the planet, stuck shopping in California with some girl I loathed? Oh, boy, is _that_ ever a fun story. Of course, not nearly as interesting as the whole being-sucked-into-another-dimension thing, but still it grated on my nerves.

Normally, around Thanksgiving or Christmas, she goes to England to visit her cousin, Justin. Justin is our neighbour, and my brother's best friend. That was how we ended up getting sucked into the Potterverse--we were the nearest fans of Harry Potter, and that was how that particular spell worked. So that was how we met Susan. Well technically, Kurt was already aware of her existence thanks to a really crappy "Spike is Billy the Kid" story she wrote that he flamed all to hell because it had historical facts wrong and all of that. Kurt was a big fan of outlaws--kind of the reason we fixed the Potterverse, actually. But anyway, she usually visits them for a month or two, then goes home back to Modesto where she can annoy people far, far away from me.

After the whole incident, she tried to be friends with us, but honestly, I didn't really have much interest. Now, I tried to be nice and friendly, but there was only so much I could take before having to conveniently excuse myself for "a glass of water" so I could just get away from her. Kurt was less polite, and told her to back the hell away from him. I couldn't imagine how much he hated her. I mean, he actually died because of her, had his . . . er, well _girlfriend_ for lack of a better term (their relationship was based entirely on sex) cheat on him with Sirius, her cousin, and then kill him. Well, and there was the whole incident where the two of them snogged, but whatever.

So anyway, on her way back home, they were staying at a random hotel in the Midwest somewhere, and she "ran away." A month later she showed up at the motel and they sent her home. I don't know how she got punished or even if she did, because that was all the way in February, but I heard all about it from Justin. I had to hear him complain about what an attention-seeking bitch she was, running off then showing up, perfectly fine, just because she wanted everyone to make a big deal about her disappearing. She told them that she didn't want to go home to Modesto because apparently it was boring but then she missed her parents so she came back.

As punishment (or because they were afraid she'd scamper off again if they showed up in England) Justin's family decided to go to them. Well, Justin wasn't a big fan of Susan, and so he begged and begged Kurt to come along. Kurt naturally wanted to go, but my dad didn't trust Kurt to go by himself and not get into trouble, so he said he could only go if I could go. Luckily for us, we only had to go visit them for a week, but still, that was one week in hell.

As it turned out, she hadn't really run off, but she'd been sucked into the television into Harry Potter movie canon because a David Tennant fan wrote a Mary Sue and she was the closest fan.

And now, we were stuck with her. Justin had come down with a bad cold, and his parents were staying home with him. Kurt and I ended up getting roped into shopping with Susan and her parents, which meant since Susan's parents were buying her gift we had to shop away from them, and we were therefore stuck with Susan because they didn't trust her enough to let her shop by herself without any supervision.

"God, I hate this. As if I wanted to follow her slag-ass around a store all day. This is ridiculous. Listening to her go on and on about some cute shirt or whatever the hell is not my idea of a vacation. God I hate this town. It's too hot. Who the hell thought about moving here? Why does everyone love California so much? Do they just love sweating to death and never seeing snow? I hate this place, I hate her, I hate shopping, this is so stupid," Kurt grumbled, scowling in her direction.

I shrugged. "I don't know. To be honest, as long as we keep her away from a computer, I'm happy."

"Did you read that Billy the Kid story yet?"

I shuddered. "God, yes. Spike, a Western outlaw? Please. Did she _hear_ his accent?"

"Surprised her bitch ass isn't dying of orgasmic pleasure 'cause she lives in Modesto."

I chuckled and looked at her holding up a black halter top with 'naughty' written across it in red glitter. "I don't think she knows. You think we should tell her?"

"And actually have to listen to her squealing constantly? No, I don't think so." He scuffed his feet across the carpet. We were both staying far enough away from her so people wouldn't think we were actually with her. "So did you review it?"

"Uh, yeah. I mean, what was up with Billy the Kid having a random sister show up in Sunnydale to kill Buffy because, oh my God, big surprise, Pat Garret is her great-great grandfather! Seriously, it wasn't even well-written. How old was she when she wrote that crap?"

"Um, twelve? So I guess we can't be too harsh on her. Least we didn't get sucked into that god-awful mess. I woulda slit my wrists then threw myself off a building to make sure it worked." Kurt sniffed and scowled a bit, glancing over her tiny frame. "Raven looks so much like her, huh? I mean, obviously Raven is one fine-ass bitch sexy mama ho I wanna shag, 'cause she was sixteen, but Susan does look like her. Just more, y'know, real and not super-pretty. Like a normal girl. And thirteen. I can't believe I kissed her Mary Sue."

I chuckled and tossed my slightly-messy curly dirty blonde hair out of my eyes, but my bangs just fell in front of my face again anyway. "Well, yeah, Kurt. That's the point of a Mary Sue. It's you, but better." I looked over my brother's tall, bulky frame. He was overweight and he had dark brown hair in a Jew-fro style. He had hazel eyes, too. "Like, you for instance--your Mary Sue--well, Gary Stu--he'd be a tall, built muscular man with sparkling hazel eyes and a mess of unkempt, but somehow still attractive, curly hair."

He patted his chubby stomach. "You mean, I have a six-pack? Nice. Still, you gotta admit, even though I'm a chubby mofo, I still whip out the charm like no other and get some fine-ass women drapin' all over me, huh? I mean, Bellatrix is top! What about you, then?"

"Oh, I'd have voluptuous blonde curls that fell past my shoulders--even though my hair is short, but Mary Sues never have short hair--and sparkling blue eyes like fireworks, and a full, pouting mouth, and curves in all the right places. And this?" I gently patted my own slightly-chubby stomach. "This would be toned and flat. And I'd probably be a little taller. Oh, and I'd probably mention the fact I was a virgin like every other sentence."

"Well, you do have nice curves. Justin's always starin' at your tits and ass. That's what happens when you get D's. And I'm pretty sick and tired of hearin' about them. Justin fancies you."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. Everybody always told me that. My dad, my brother . . . It was probably true, but I don't know why everyone had to tell me about it all the time. Justin and I were friends, too. Did they want to make it awkward to hang out? "Yeah, okay," I muttered.

"Well, that's what happens when you hang around a chit for a long time. Even if she's not a bangin' fit little slag, sometimes you start likin' her. You're like one of the guys, but a girl."

I shifted awkwardly, not really in the mood to discuss the romantic aspects of my life with my brother, and especially when it involved his best friend. "But anyway, yeah, that fic sucked."

Kurt glanced at me for a second and he caught onto the fact I changed the subject. "Yeah, it did." He eyed a girl who walked past us, her bleached-blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun held in place with chopsticks, and he tilted his head so he could watch her butt when she strode over to the shirt-rack. "But well that's Susan for you. God, I hate her so much. Like I wanna listen to her prattle on and on about her really crappy stories that nobody really likes anyway. I'm so sick and tired of all her canon-raping."

I nodded quickly, agreeing with him. "Yeah. I mean, writing a crappy story is one thing, but having to actually fight that Mary Sue bitch pushed it over the limit for me. Now here we are, bloody stuck with her, and I had enough of her last year even if that wasn't really her. Stupid slag." I scowled, realizing that I was whining a little.

That girl who walked past us chuckled and looked over her shoulder at us.

Kurt and I looked at each other, then back at her. I smiled feebly and stepped closer to Kurt, only coming up to his chin. He was a foot taller than me, so I often had to tilt my head up when talking to him. Sometimes we forgot to keep our voices down when talking about our alternate-reality experience. Mostly people thought we were just talking about a story I was writing, but still, it wasn't something we should have probably talked so loudly about.

"Excuse me," the girl said, walking over to us. Like everyone else we met, she was American. "Did you just say Mary Sue?"

"Why? That your name?" Kurt asked, standing up taller and his voice deepening slightly. Oh, boy. More flirting. The girl looked like she was still in American high school--I'd probably guess her at seventeen or eighteen. My brother was sixteen, but it looked like he was going to have to go to school for another year to get his certificate.

"Oh, no, it's just--you know, that's a fanfic term. You like fanfic?"

"Oh, yeah. I write a lot of it," I answered, smiling at her. Hey, cool--another fanfic writer.

She looked between us. "So, you two from England?" We both nodded--we got asked that a lot. "That's cool. Wow. What are you doing in Cali?"

"That bitch ass ho right there," Kurt started, pointing at Susan who was looking at a black tank-top with little white ribbons tied in bows down the side, "ran off last year so we have to visit her in this bloody hot place 'cause they don't think her coming to England's a good idea but they all wanted to see her anyway so we got dragged 'cause my best friend is her cousin and he hates the bitch, so here we are."

"So I take it you two aren't real friendly with her, then?" she asked, casually looking at her fingernails, then digging some dirt out with her teeth.

I sighed and nodded. "Ugh, you have no idea. She . . . well, let's just say it's a long story, but we kinda got . . . roped into one of her fanfics that was really, really horrible."

"But most of them suck, but that one was . . . real bad," Kurt elaborated. "But yeah, she got all bitchy 'cause we didn't like it and she killed off my character but brought me--him--back 'cause she wanted to show off or whatever and put our characters through a lot of stuff and wouldn't listen to a damn word we said it sucked I hate her she's a whore skank."

The woman we were talking to scowled and looked at us, nodding. "I know what you mean," she muttered. "In fact, the other day, I was reading this Buffy fic, and it was like totally screwed up. Apparently, Buffy had this Mary Sue vampire named Justine tracking her and trying to kill her because Pat Garret was her great grandpa or something and she thought her brother was dead but he really wasn't. Spike was her brother, but he was actually--"

"Billy the Kid?" I finished for her, grimacing slightly. "Yeah, that's--that's her story. She finished it years ago, but it's so horrible people read it just to comment on how crappy it is."

The girl laughed. "I just read it because I was in the mood for spuffy, and that one had a lot of reviews."

Kurt walked a bit closer to her and smirked. "So I take it you like _Buffy _then?" he asked, openly checking her out. Oh, boy. It was really, really awkward to watch my brother hit on someone.

"Oh, yeah. I haven't liked a show this much since _Doogie Howser._ I used to write fanfic for that show, too."

I raised my eyebrow at her. "What were you, like four?"

"Um . . . Yeah. Yeah, I just--I just scribbled them down on paper. Mostly they were, uh, scribbled comics and stuff. Nothing epic."

I nodded. "I get that. I used to do that, with _Ninja Turtles._ So, you read her fic then? I'm sorry. Trust me, the one we, uh, read was like four thousand times worse than that. We made sure she didn't post it, though, because . . . Well, that would've been really, really bad. She still didn't learn, though. I mean, for awhile she tried harder and sent it to me to beta and stuff, but after awhile she just got lazy and didn't give a crap anymore. So she's back to sucking."

"She's one of those lost cases then? Totally ruining the Buffyverse and all that?"

I nodded. "Oh yeah. Big time. She doesn't even try to keep them in character, and the plots are all cliché and screwy and just way out there. I mean, she's a huge spuffy shipper, which means she likes to bash Angel and Riley to the point where it's ridiculous. I mean, I don't mind some bashing, it's called an opinion, but seriously, keep them in character--I hate it when she tries to make them into the bad guy so she makes Riley abusive or whatever. It's ridiculous. I mean, I'm not a huge fan of Angel or Riley either, but I don't completely change their character so I can justify not liking them and stuff."

I realized that I was ranting when I saw my brother give me a what-are-you-doing-you're-gonna-scare-her-off-and-I'm-trying-to-pick-her-up look. Or at least, I think that was what the glare was supposed to mean.

"Oh, my God, I know just what you mean! I hate Anya so a lot of my stories aren't exactly nice, but I mean I don't make her into a total whore-slut or whatever so the audience doesn't care if something bad happens to her. I mean, yeah, she's a smug little bitch who doesn't deserve Xander, but still, I felt bad when he left her at the altar. I mean, isn't that just ironic? She spends hundreds of years hating men and when she finally gets to like one he leaves her at the altar and that's the sort of thing Anyanka would've just loved to cast vengeance on, but she couldn't because she _was_ Anyanka. She's a bitch, yeah, but still--no one deserves that. Even if I hate her."

Kurt blinked a few times. "You don't like Anya? She funny as hell, yo! Always saying what's on her mind, always goin' on about sex, she's cool as hell, and she's sexy and fit and fine, too, but hey, to each their own." He shrugged, but I noticed he took a step back from her and wasn't turning up the charm anymore.

"Well, she's got a point--that is pretty ironic," I conceded. I liked Anya a lot too, but I could see where someone wouldn't like her. "But anyway, Susan doesn't care about stuff like that--characters; clichés--and it's like, sometimes I wish I could just . . . you know, _stop_ it and make her see how horrible her stupid Mary Sue is and just, y'know, make her see how bad her canon-raping the world is."

The girl smiled at me, but it was kind of a creepy smile. Suddenly, her face changed. Deep grooves went all over her skin, like psychotic wrinkles, and oddly, she looked a bit like a vengeance demon.

"Done," she growled.

There was a bright flash of light and the sound of wind rushing past my ears. The light blinded me for a second, and I screamed loudly when my stomach started twisting and flipping, making me nauseous. When the light disappeared, little bursts of colour popped in front of my eyes, and then I saw the ground coming up to meet my face quickly.

THUD!

I groaned, went to push myself off of the ground, then something landed on my back and grunted. "What the hell . . . ?" Kurt grumbled from on top of me.

"Get off me fat-ass!" I snapped, shoving him off of me as I stood, brushing myself off.

"Don't call me fat you stupid cu--" He ran at me and shoved me to the ground, my bones jarring against each other and I grunted in pain.

Before I could tell him to chill out, I noticed a dart sticking out of his chest. I stood up so quickly I tripped on my own feet. "There's something in your--ow!" I felt a sharp prick in my arm and I looked at it, seeing a dart, and suddenly my head was spinning.

"Anne . . . behind . . ." Kurt muttered, then collapsed to the grass.

My head felt heavy and my vision started blurring and losing colour. Next thing I knew, I heard a whooshing sound, and everything went black.

* * *

A/N--Yes, my brother (Kurt is my brother, and I am Anne, although our names have been changed) did almsot call me that special C word that rhymes with bunt. HOWEVER it doesn't offend me. We insult each other, but really, it's just invective irony. We have a very Al and Peggy relationship--we insult each other, and NEVER have sex. (Disclaimer: I do not own _Married With Children_.) I think he also redeemed himself, for those of you who are still offended by it, by saving my life. Well, not saving, but hell, he didn't know that. He actually thought it was a real gun, not a dart gun.

Susan, in case you didn't gather, is NOT the Sue, but the Suethor. She has a semi-large nose, dark eyes, a healthy weight (as in, not anorexic) and long black hair. She is homophobic. She is also a bit of a klepto and easily bored. She lives in Modesto, California. Now, that is jsut a carry-on joke from the last parody--I had no idea my sequel would take place in the Buffyverse. I thought--"Quick, [insert my real name here], think of a really small town in California so she can complain about wanting to live in LA--ah! Modesto!"

Also, you will notice that the name of thsi chapter is a continuation from one of my fave Jayne lines, from _Firefly_. "If wishes were horses, I'd be eatin' steak!"

Disclaimer: I do not own _Firefly._ Joss Whedon does, as does Mutant Enemy, and Fox.

Disclamier II: I do not own Modesto, California. That privelage belongs to The Governator.


	3. So, You're English, Huh?

Chapter Two: So, You're English, Huh?

_Previously, on Buffy the Vampire Slayer:_

_Screams filled the air as oxygen masks fell from the compartments and the plane rattled with the intensity of the turbulance. Spike rushed down the aisle and burst into the cockpit, his eyes widening in shock. "Nobody's flyin' this plane!" he shouted._

_FLASH!_

_Joyce reached forward and put her hand on Buffy's shoulder, squeezing it gently. "Buffy, I meant to tell you earlier . . . but, you see, the reason I never like Angel was . . ." She looked downward and released Buffy's shoulder. "Angel's your brother, Buffy. Your long lost twin."_

_Buffy turned away from her mother, and bit into her knuckle._

_FLASH!_

_The manager to the _Fabulous Ladies' Night Club_ pushed a scantily clad Xander onto the stage, and he nearly ran into the pole. He stared at the wildly cheering crowd. "Well, here goes," he muttered, and the music started._

* * *

Kurt rammed his body against the glass, only to be knocked back by the electricity. He stumbled backwards, his body still tingling unpleasantly from the shock. He gritted his teeth, took a few steps back, and ran at the glass again. The glass didn't even shudder under his weight; it only shocked him again, as he knew it would, and he stumbled backwards again. "Hey! Hey, you let me outta here! You lemme outta here right now!" he yelled, his deep baritone echoing back at him. He slammed his palms against the glass separating him from the white hallway, and winced when it shocked him, stinging his skin slightly. "Let--me--out!" He kicked the glass on every word.

Kurt wasn't having a good day. He spent hours on a plane, watching same lame in-flight movie about a dog, only to be thrown into a hotter-than-it-should-have-been-in-December town to socialise with a bitch who had gotten him killed. Of course, it wasn't like she'd done it on purpose, and she was only thirteen so he couldn't have expected her to be an amazing writer, but still, he hated her anyway.

And now, it appeared he was stuck in something that looked scarily similar to the Initiative, and so apparently he'd been sucked into another dimension, yet again. When he first woke up, he hadn't realized where he was, but after a few seconds reality smacked him upside the head and realized what had happened. It didn't nearly take as long as it had last time for him to realize that he wasn't stoned out of his mind, and he really was stuck in a universe that was supposed to be fictional.

"You sons o' bitches let me out! Let me the hell outta here or I'm gonna--I'm gonna bash your head in! I'm gonna slit your throat! I'm gonna seriously beat the living hell outta you guys! All of you! Stupid Initiative prats I'm human you stupid scumbag commando loser assholes! Let me outta here!" he shouted again, then rammed his shoulder against the glass futilely.

"Would you _shut up_ already?" someone yelled, and it sounded like the voice was coming from the cell beside his.

Kurt furrowed his brows at the wall. "Why don't you go stuff it? Tell me what to do again, bitch."

"You think hollering is gonna get you out of here?" the voice said again.

"And sitting and staring at these white walls and stuff is any better?" he retorted, walking over to the wall and pressing his hands against it, then tilting his head to the side so he could hear the girl's voice better. "What are you doing, Oh Mighty Smart Bitch? Moping?"

There was no reply.

He scoffed. "Yeah, figured." He turned back to the glass and side-kicked it. "Hey! Hey, hey, hey! Let me out! I'm gonna kill you if you don't! Yeah! Don't think I won't!"

"Come on, get a grip! You do know what this place is, don't you? You honestly think they're gonna let you out because you yell at them?"

Kurt frowned. The voice sounded eerily familiar to him; like he'd heard the voice a long time ago, but he couldn't remember where. "Well, no, probably not, but it makes me feel better. Besides, they took my sister, an'--an'--well, that's pretty lame," he finished, not really wanting to admit out loud that he was freaking out over the fact something might have happened to his sister.

"You're from England," the girl stated.

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he grumbled, but not loud enough for her to hear, then slammed his palms against the glass again, wincing when the shocks burned his skin a little. "Bastards! Come on!"

"You've got a sister?" she asked.

"God, trick, shut up will you? I hate twenty questions!" he growled, then kicked the glass again.

"I used to have a sister, but then my entire family was tortured and slaughtered in front of me. I barely escaped alive. Well, actually, I'm not _alive,_ you know? Being a vampire and all. The guy who sired me, well . . . let's just say he didn't mean to sire me, and--"

"I really don't care," he shouted.

"Well, fine! Just trying for some conversation!" she snapped back.

Kurt sighed, kicked the glass again, then stared up at the ceiling. He knew that he wasn't going to break down the glass because he knew exactly where he was. He touched the back of his head and started feeling around for any scars or cuts or Band-Aids or anything that might have suggested he had surgery done. He didn't feel anything. "Fine, go on, tell me your precious story then," he called back to her.

"Well, okay, I used to be best friends with this guy, right? Like, best, best friends. We did everything together. But you see, I used to be a slayer--you know what a slayer is? I'm sure you do. But anyway, yeah, I was a slayer, but he didn't know, because you know how slayers are supposed to keep their identity a secret. Right? You do know about how--"

"I know what a damn slayer is, all right?" he snapped angrily.

"Oh, okay, so anyway, I had this friend, and he was really, really sweet--just a good guy you know--but you see, he didn't know what I was, and my Watcher, well, he was a jerk, and he liked to rape me a lot. Constantly, in fact. And he didn't want me hanging out with my friend, but anyway I tried to do what I wanted, but yeah, so anyway, one day my friend died 'cause a vampire killed him. Then I killed my watcher, because he was taunting me about his death, and I left, but my friend found me. I thought--well, I guess I thought he'd still wanna be friends and I was in love with him, but he tortured and killed my family in front of me, and he tried to kill me but he accidentally sired me--"

There was a familiar nagging sensation in the back of his mind, because he couldn't figure out why the girl sounded familiar. "Huh? How the hell do you accidentally sire someone? It's kinda like something you have to think about. What, he tripped and a bloody wound fell right on your mouth?"

"Kinda. I kicked him."

Kurt blinked a few times, then shook his head. She was a slayer-turned-vampire who had been 'accidentally' sired by her best friend who pulled an Angelus and killed her whole family in front of her. Her Watcher had raped her. He was starting to get a bad feeling. "So, uh . . . You lived in America?" he asked casually.

"Not when I was human. No, I lived in London. I've just lived here long enough for my accent to fade, you know, so now I sound American, when I'm really not."

Kurt snarled. "Sounds familiar," he muttered under his breath. Susan had created a short-lived Sue named Lucretia who had run away from Voldemort and hid in California and because of that, her accent had faded. "So, London huh? What year?" he asked, trying to peer down the hallway and see if he could get a glimpse of the person next to him, but he couldn't.

"1880 was when I was sired."

Kurt cringed. He had a suspicion of where the story was going. "Uh-huh, right. Yeah. And your sire?"

"His name was William--why? You know him?"

Kurt smacked his hand to his forehead. "Uh-huh, yeah--yeah, I do. What's your name, girl?"

"Raven."

Kurt let out a yell of fear, then threw his body against the glass. "Hey! Hey! Get me out of here! Hey! Come on! Come the hell on! Let me the hell outta here!" he screamed (in a manly way, of course) and repeatedly pounded against the glass.

* * *

When Anne woke up, at first she had no idea what the hell was going on. All she saw was white and she realized she was sleeping on the floor. She shook her head, her dream slipping from her mind, and looked around the room she was in. She was either in a really small room, or a nicely-sized closet. Seeing as there weren't any hangers or clothes, she figured it was a small room. Other than being slightly confused and her head was still a little stuffy from sleepiness, she felt all right.

It wasn't until she stood up and looked at the glass door separating her from the hallway that she realized where she was. "What? No, this--this can't be happening," she muttered quietly, feeling a sense of dread and panic filling her chest.

She remembered going to the store with her brother and having to follow Susan around like a hawk because her parents were afraid she'd run off. She remembered talking about the Billy the Kid story with Kurt, and some random girl talking to them. She remembered the girl's face changing, and then a bright flash of light. A portal. She'd been sucked into a portal, landed in the cemetery, and been hit by a dart. She allowed herself a second to feel a little touched at the fact her brother shoved her out of the way of the first one, then realized with a sickening jolt that she was stuck in another dimension. Again.

"Oh, God, no," she moaned, holding her face in her hands. "No, no, no, no, no!" She ran at the door angrily and rammed against it, the sizzle of electricity burning her, and she shrieked, jumping away from it--or rather, being propelled away from it by the shock. "Well, that was stupid, Anne," she berated herself, rubbing her bare arm.

She glanced down at what she was wearing, and cringed a little. She'd forgotten she'd been wearing a schoolgirl skirt, and she hoped to god that while she'd been carried and thrown into the cell nobody had seen her underwear.

"Of all the times to wear a skirt," she grumbled, looking down at her pale legs. She was chubby, but she could still comfortably wear a spaghetti-stringed shirt without feeling self-conscious. Actually, she liked wearing it, because it showed off her boobs. There were a lot of things she didn't like about her physical appearance, but she felt fine about her breasts. It was her legs, however, that she hated, and the reason why she'd spent three hours trying to find a school-girl skirt that went near the knee as opposed to barely covering her vagina.

"Hello?" she called loudly, walking closer to the glass. She went to lean against it to peer down the hall, then remembered that it would shock her if she did, so she put her hands down by her sides. She looked around the bare, white room, scuffed the floor with her Doc Martins, then went over to the wall on her left side. Feeling stupid as she did it, she knocked loudly on the wall. "Kurt? Kurt, are you in there?"

"Who's Kurt?" someone who had a whiny, nasally voice asked.

"Never mind." She walked over to the other side of the room, and knocked on that wall. "Kurt? Are you there?"

BANG! Anne jumped when she heard the noise and took a few steps back when she heard several other bangs, and a loud, ferocious growl and a snarl through the wall. "Okay, that's not Kurt then," she muttered.

She looked around and started pacing, staring out of the glass for a few minutes. Eventually, she just decided to yell. "Hello? Hey, is anyone there? Hey! Come on! Anyone? Oi! Excuse me, I need to talk to someone! I'm not a vampire! I'm not a demon! Hello? Oi! Dammit, come on, I'm not a--"

"Hey!" came the nasally-voiced man again. "Are you from England?"

Anne sighed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I'm from England," she said loudly so the guy could hear her.

"And you're not a vampire?" he asked again.

"No, I'm human," she called again. "Hey, do, like, the commandoes or whatever patrol down this hall ever? 'Cause I really need to talk with one of them . . ."

"Whose Kurt?" he called.

Anne ignored the loud growling and banging from the other side of her room, and walked over to the wall. "Um, he's my brother."

"Is he also from England?"

"Uh . . . yeah," she muttered as loudly as she could, rolling her eyes.

There was a moment of silence on the other end. "So, what's your name?"

"It's Anne. What's your name?"

"Oh, I don't have a name. I'm just some random person with a distinctive voice to respond to you when you ask if I'm your brother." Anne furrowed her eyebrows. Well, that had been an odd response. "So you doing anything Saturday? I think British chicks are hot."

"Um--" She heard a loud rapping noise and jumped a little bit to see Riley standing in front of her glass door.

"Uh, Hostile 19?" he greeted.

For the first time in her life, seeing Riley made her grin like mad. "Riley!" she shouted, running at the door. She placed her hands against the glass and was propelled back by the shock. "Ow! Oh, thank God, I was worried that you'd never walk down the--well, actually, I wasn't complaining very long, was I? Lucky me."

"Huh?" he asked, tilting his head. His longish hair fell in front of his eyes, and Anne had to admit he looked attractive with the longer hair. He was the same height as her brother. She knew he was a tall man, but still, seeing him so tall and so close was strange. Even after meeting Snape and most of the Potterverse characters, meeting someone that was supposed to be fictional still creeped her out.

"Look, I need to know where my brother is."

"You're from England?" he asked.

She sighed. "Yes, I'm from England, okay? Wow, I know that must be a bloody shock to you, the fact that there are _other continents_ Captain America, but yes, I do have an accent, and yes, it _is_ English."

He shook his head. "Wait, no, I didn't--I meant, you're _British."_

"How come everyone has such a hard time grasping that concept?" she snapped angrily.

"We have to establish the fact you're British," came the nasally voice again.

Riley glared in the direction of the other cell, then looked back at her. "This isn't coming out how I thought. You said you were looking for your brother?"

"Uh, yeah."

"And you're _not_ a vampire?"

She furrowed her eyebrows. "What? How'd you--"

"I heard you yelling that." He looked her over, and Anne shifted uncomfortably, although his gaze wasn't exactly him checking her out so much as noting her appearance. "Someone's been causing a problem, yelling a lot, and he's British too. That must be him--your brother. We've been running blood tests, and we've got two humans in here--one's a girl, the other's a guy."

"Yes! Yes, I'm the girl! I'm the girl!"

"All right, then. Come with me."

Anne furrowed her brows. "You're serious? You're just--you're just gonna let me out and stuff?"

"Convenient plot point," said the person in the cell next to her.

Anne glared at the wall again, then back at Riley. "Um . . . okay, yeah, whatever. Take me to him."

Riley nodded. "I'm going to need you to step away from the glass doors, and if you try to attack me, I'll be forced to knock you out."

Anne nodded and stepped away from the door quickly. "Yeah, yeah, come on."

He stepped into the cell with her. "I'm going to have to blindfold you, ma'am."

"What? Why?" she demanded, feeling slightly sickened suddenly. When he tilted his head at her and narrowed his eyes, she stared up at the ceiling. "This better not be some weird PWP with Riley!" she shouted.

"What? Are you okay?" He stared at her, brows furrowed.

She looked back at him and took a step back, folding her arms over chest. "Why do I need to be blindfolded?"

"The hostiles are generally unconscious when we move them. We can't have you see what we do here, and know the layout of the base."

Anne nodded. She supposed that made sense. It made more sense than she expected whatever fanfic she was in to make, anyway. "Okay. And, what, I suppose you just have a blindfold in your pocket, then?"

"Um, yes."

She sighed. "Typical."

She let him wrap the blindfold around her eyes, feeling a little awkward when he pressed against her to have better access to the back of her head to tie the blindfold. He grabbed her arm a bit rougher than she expected and started to lead her. He led her out of the cell and turned to the right.

"Wait! You're the wrong girl! You're the wrong girl!" the whiny, nasally man shouted. "Hey, Agent Finn! Not the right girl! She's not the right--"

"Shut up, Hostile," he snapped.

While Riley led her through the Initiative, Anne allowed herself time to think. Obviously, somehow, she'd ended up in the Buffyverse. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was telling herself that she really should have had a harder time accepting that, but the screwed up thing was that she didn't need much explanation to believe it. It had happened to her before, after all. Last time, her and Kurt had needed about an hour of discussion with Snape and Bellatrix riddled with proof in order for her to even contemplate what had happened. Now, though, she accepted it at face value. So far, other than she had the nasally-voiced guy pointing out the reason behind bad writing or whatever it had been he was doing, and the fact Riley had too-easily decided to take her to Kurt, nothing canon-rape-ish had happened yet.

"So . . . you're hip to family reunions huh? So where are you gonna take us? I'm not exactly native to Sunnydale and don't know the area. Could you give us directions or something?"

"I'm not taking you out of here. I'm putting you in a cell with your brother."

Anne stopped moving. "What? But I'm a human! What could you possibly want with me?"

"The agents who tagged you saw you two fall out of a portal. What do you think we want with you?" he growled, and started forcing her down the corridors again. She started screaming and trying to break free, but throwing her weight around hadn't impressed Riley apparently, and he kept a tight hold on her easily, as if she weighed nothing at all. Which was saying something seeing as she weighed more than she felt comfortable admitting out loud.

Struggling didn't even seem to slow him down. She came to his chin and she was lacking in the muscles department, so it really didn't surprise her. Her screams and yells didn't affect him either, seeing as he was surrounded by demons and the like making just as much racket.

She heard the unmistakeable sound of the glass door sliding open, and suddenly he shoved her away from him. She slammed into Kurt's solid chest and he grabbed her arms to steady her, just as she heard the glass doors slide closed again.

She pulled away from him and her hands went to the back of her head, trying to untie the knots. "When I figure out how this is Susan's fault, I'm _so_ gonna enjoy kicking her ass," she muttered, her fingers having a problem trying to undo the knot. "You're gonna love this. They're keeping us here even though we're humans because of that portal crap. They think we did it." She tugged on the knot some more, a little disoriented talking to Kurt when she couldn't see him. "Could you get this? He tied the thing too tight."

She felt him press against her as she tilted her head down so he had better access to the knot. After a second, she felt the knot loosen. "I can't believe it. Portals and dimensions and demons--I can't believe we're doing this _again. _This is seriously screwed up, Kurt."

The blindfold was finally away from her eyes and she was looking at two pairs of Doc Martins. Hers, and her brother's. Except, her brother didn't _have_ Doc Martins.

"Don't know what you're talkin' about luv . . ." She raised her head to see Spike, who was currently vamped out. "But I'm not Kurt."

* * *

A/N--DUN DUN DUN!!!!!! Who wasn't expecting Spike?

**Next time: Slashy Random Agent, and sexual innuendo! And does Spike's chip work? Only time will tell! Stay tuned, poppets!**


	4. The Daring Escape

Chapter Three: The Daring Escape

_Previously, on Buffy the Vampire Slayer:_

_"Bueller?" the teacher called loudly, looking at his classroom, trying to find the absent face. "Bueller? Bueller?"_

_He never answered._

_FLASH!_

_"Spike, I'm not interested," Buffy shouted, trying to storm away._

_Spike grabbed her arm and forced her to turn and look. "Buffy, wait, it's important!"_

_She yanked her arm from his hand. "What?"_

_That was when he reached into his pants, and pulled out his large cock._

_"Dammit, Spike!" Buffy yelled, giving him a gentle shove. "How many times have I told you not to keep farmyard fowl in your pants!?"_

_FLASH!_

_"Get outta my chair, Spike," Angel demanded as he strolled in his office._

_Spike plopped his feet on the table and put his hands behind his head. "Sod off, Peaches." He gave him a slow look-over, ignoring the glare he got as Angel slammed his mug of blood down on the desk. "I've gotta question for you," Spike said._

_"I don't have time for this crap," Angel muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose._

_"Won't take but a minute," Spike promised._

_"What?"_

_"Caveman or an astronaut--who would win?"_

_And now, on with the story!_

Anne screamed. It seemed like the sensible thing to do.

"Riley!" she shrieked, then charged at the glass door, only to be shocked and repelled. Riley wasn't there anymore. She turned around to see Spike smirking and stuffing the blindfold in his duster pocket. Her back was near the glass separating her from the hall, and if she backed up anymore, she would be shocked. Spike smirking in his vampire face was lot more terrifying in reality than it had seemed on television.

He took a slow step towards her and hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. "Look at you. All terrified. And in a _brilliant_ outfit, too." He looked her over, and even with the bunched-up brow and the hawk-yellow eyes, he could somehow give her a lustful look of appreciation. Anne wasn't feeling very happy about that at the moment so much as wanting to run away screaming.

The chip hadn't been activated yet. She remembered he'd fought a few humans on his way out of the Initiative, and pain hadn't ricocheted in his skull.

He was still walking towards her slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. Her body was tense--ready to shoot off at a moment's notice, even though there was nowhere to go and it was kind of pointless to try and fight him off. "Now, I haven't fed for a long time, luv, and I'm feelin' peckish, so I _will_ eat you . . . thing is, though; two vampires in one cell? Might be dead useful at the moment."

He charged at her and she shrieked, trying to run past him uselessly, only for him to grab her shoulder and slam her against a wall.

She yelped and started punching his chest while he grabbed her fist. She liked Spike--she really did, he was her first-ever fictional character love--but that didn't meant he wasn't a psychotic killer and therefore a very scary man. She screamed even louder and he chuckled deeply, brushing away her fists like they were irksome flies, his bottom lip curling while he struggled to keep her against the wall.

He grabbed a fistful of her messy, dirty-blonde hair and tugged her head aside, growling as his mouth went to her neck. His teeth pierced her skin and she felt tears spring into her eyes while she tried to push him off, but he held onto her, and she felt her blood rushing down her skin and him suckling it greedily.

He yanked his head away from her throat and let out a yell of pain, clutching his forehead.

Anne stood still, her back to the wall, breathing heavily out of fear, and stared at Spike. All right, so the chip _did_ work, despite the fact he'd grabbed a scientist by the throat and tossed him like a rag doll later on. Or at least, he had in the episode. Spike charged at her again, his teeth nearing her throat, and she shrieked, and then he shrieked, and he clutched his head in pain.

He glared at her evilly, as if blaming her, then tried a third time, but apparently that wasn't a charm, and even though she knew the chip had activated she let out a strangled half-cry of fear before he pulled away from her, clutching his forehead and yelling out in pain.

Still, she breathed heavily and stared at him, her throat going dry. She felt her warm blood sliding across her skin still.

"What the _hell_ did you do to me?" he growled, slamming his hand on the wall beside her head.

She jumped. "I didn't do it," she told him, her voice high-pitched yet weak. She cleared her throat. "It's them--they--the commandoes, they--they do experiments and stuff."

He tilted his head and his jaw tensed visibly. "What do you mean by that?' he asked slowly, his voice deep.

"They put a chip in your head. You can't kill living things anymore," she explained quietly. "Um . . . sorry?"

"Living things," he said slowly, as if trying to wrap his head around the concept.

"Like--like people, kitties . . . um, things that are living? I mean, you can kill demons."

He leaned closer to her, his nose inches from hers, and his hawk-yellow eyes roved over her face. "You seem to know a lot 'bout this place. Earlier, you mentioned you couldn't believe you were doin' this _again."_

Anne mouthed wordlessly for a few seconds, very, very aware of the fact he was inches from her--centimetres, even--without the ability to kill her and still, she was frightened all to hell. "Um . . . Well, I--I--I, uh . . . It's complicated," she managed. She felt stupid. Here she was, standing in front of Spike in an outfit he'd said was brilliant, and instead of being some charming, flirtatious woman she would have liked to be, she was stuttering like an idiot even after she knew he couldn't even harm her.

"I take it you've gotten out, then, if you're back . . . been through it before . . ." He tilted his head, then moved his mouth next to her ear. "You're gonna get me out of here." He wasn't asking; he was demanding.

She opened her mouth to tell him that she would, but she didn't get a chance to. ". . . God, that bitch was drivin' me insane. Glad you got me outta there. So you're really takin' me to my sister, huh?"

"Get off," she snapped, shoving Spike away from her. Hearing her brother's voice snapped her out of her fear and filled her with hope.

"Hey!" Spike shouted, went to punch her, then grabbed his head in pain just as the random Agent dragging Kurt opened the glass door and thrust him forward.

Kurt slammed into Anne and she fell on her behind, grunting, then hurriedly stood up and rearranged her skirt so it didn't show off her panties.

"Oi, bitch, run into me, why don't you? God, Anne, you're such a klutz," he snapped, trying to undo the knot on the back of his head while the Agent closed the glass. After a few seconds, he groaned. "Will you untie this?" he asked, turning around.

She went over to him and started trying to undo the knot. "Sorry, he threw you right into me."

"Guess who I was next to in the cell. You'll never believe it."

She furrowed her eyebrows, aware of the fact Spike was pacing behind her, and her finger slipped away from the knot on the blindfold. "Um . . . Oz."

"Uh, no."

"Uh . . . Harmony?"

"God, you suck at this. Keep goin'--trust me, you'll never believe it."

"Bellatrix?"

"Keep going."

"George Clooney? God, just tell me already!"

"Raven! Dude, is it that hard to guess? Seriously! Different dimension and it didn't cross your mind? And hurry up with that knot!"

She sighed. "I'm trying, but it's really bloody tight."

Spike scoffed and walked over to her, elbowed her out of the way, and quickly untied it with a few short tugs. He stuffed the blindfold into his duster pocket with the other. Kurt turned around, mouth open to talk to his sister and head appropriately tilted for her height so he was looking at Spike's chin, and then he raised his eyes to meet Spike. He blinked once. "Oh. Sup?" He brushed past Spike and went to Anne. "Yeah, Raven was right next to me. Fantastic, huh? So, what happened? Kinda . . . a blank. We were shoppin', then bam!"

"Whoa, hold up there," Spike said, grabbing Kurt's shoulder and turning him around, which was a bit funny to see seeing as Spike was shorter than him. "Different dimension? Pray tell, what the bloody hell are you two yammerin' on about? I got Li'l Miss Skirt over there goin' on about chips--" Anne smoothed down her skirt again and glared at it. "--an' talkin' 'bout portals and you prancin' in here talkin' bout it too. What's goin' on?"

Kurt pulled his shoulder out of Spike's grasp casually. "Trust me, you don't wanna know." He turned back to Anne and stepped forward. "Seriously, this is really . . ." He trailed off and his eyes moved to her neck, which was still slick with her blood. His face fell and he blinked.

Anne cleared her throat and wiped the blood off with the back of her hand. "The chip, uh . . . went off right after," she explained.

Kurt spun and decked Spike in the face. Spike stumbled and his back hit the glass wall. He glared at Kurt evilly, then lunged to attack him, then his chip went off and he growled, holding his head. Kurt scoffed. "Dick," he spat, then turned towards Anne. "You all right, though?"

She touched the wound, wincing when a sharp sting went through her neck, then she nodded. "Yeah, I'm good, I guess."

"Wait . . . haven't I done this before?" Spike said, slowly shaking his head.

Kurt and Anne turned to him. "What do you mean?" Anne asked.

"The whole . . . chip thing. Seems bloody familiar . . ."

Kurt and her shared a look, and she self-consciously wiped some blood off her neck and onto the back of her hand. "Right . . ." She cleared her throat. "What, like, déjà vu . . . ?"

Kurt sighed, then grabbed his sister's shoulder and pulled her further away from Spike so she wasn't looking at him anymore. "Thing is, we gotta get outta here. Don't want them operating on me. They've already done something to him; they probably did something to us. Anne, you've got brains and stuff--think of a way to get us outta here," Kurt said, not waiting for Spike to explain what he meant.

Anne blinked at him then scoffed. "What? You can't just--you can't just ask me to pull a plan out of my arse! Why can't we just do what he did--fake like we're asleep, fight the way out--oh, right, the chip is working, dammit. Thank you, Susan," she growled, glaring at the ceiling. "Anyway . . . uh . . ." She felt a throb in her neck. "Oh! Oh, I was attacked! I've got blood on my neck! Ooh, great! I've got a plan!"

* * *

Random Agent walked down the hall, complaining inwardly that he would never be as totally wicked awesome as Riley. Riley, with his pale blue, but kinda squinty-in-a-hot way, eyes, and longish dirty-blonde hair that fell in front of his face, and his tall, muscular body . . . Yeah, Random Agent would never be cool like _that._

Random Agent was totally not written by a thirteen year old girl with a crush on Riley.

No, he was actually just slashy. Because everyone knows all thirteen-year-old girls hate Riley 'cause he's like such a dweeb, and Angel hates him, and Spike does too, so why would anyone like him? What a doof.

But Random Agent was like totally groovin' on some of that Finn Pheromone. 'Cause he was slashy.

And also, a bit envious. He wished he was cool like Agent Finn, but he wasn't. He was just a random guy thrown into the story to be duped and stuff.

But, anyway, as he was calmly walking down the hall looking at all of the Hostiles, he heard pounding. "Hey! Help! Someone help! He's eating my sister! He's eating her! And not in the good way! Oh God what is this place! Dude! Dude no stop! Yo, ain't anyone gonna help?"

"Must be those humans," he added unnecessarily to no one. "You know, the ones we found falling out of that portal."

"Dude, who are you talking to?" said Random Demonic Hostile.

Random Agent hurried down the hall until he found the cell with Hostile 17, a damn fine lookin' hostile if he ever saw one, one almost cooler than Riley, and that he was tearing out the throat of that kinda chubby girl that was short with the messy dirty-blonde hair. What was her name? Hostile 19? Blood was dripping down her collarbone, and he was almost jealous of her because that Hostile really was pretty sexy, all suckin' on her throat . . .

"Oi, douche! Quit starin' at my sister's tit's and save her! Bastard!" yelled that fat tall dude with the Jew-fro.

"Oh, she's in pain?" he asked, completely confused. Why would anyone complain about havin' that hunk o' sexy man licking her neck?

He stared at the girl, beating on his chest and sobbing and screaming hysterically, trying to push him away while Hostile 17 growled and snacked on her.

"What the--? Yeah, she's in pain! Come in here and save her! What the hell?"

"I thought she was all into that sorta thing. Whatever. Cool, I'll save her--then I can be super-awesome like Riley!" Random Agent exclaimed, ignoring the fact that Hostile 18 (the dude) started laughing hysterically and muttering something about cardboard. He opened the glass door, ready to shock the hell out of the sexy blonde vampire, when the guy who was laughing tackled him to the ground. "What? What are you--"

"What do you think I'm doing?" he inquired, yanking the taser from his hands.

"Are we gonna have sex now?" Random Agent asked with a grin on his face.

Hostile 18 blinked, decked him in the face, then slammed the taser between his eyebrows.

* * *

"Go, go, go!" shouted Kurt, charging down the hallway towards the door that was still open. "Bitch, can't you run?" he yelled over his shoulder at his sister, who was a slow and awkward-looking runner.

"Leave her, mate!"

"Leave her, and I'll stake you--grab her, let's get goin'!"

Spike sighed, turned around, swept Anne into his arms, and started running down the hall again.

"Hey! I don't need you carryin' me like a--"

"Yeah, you do," Spike growled, holding her against his chest as if she were a baby.

She sighed. "Don't look up my skirt, then."

"Hostiles are escaping!" came a shrill voice, and Anne tried to look around, which was difficult given her position, but saw that scientists and commandoes were coming at them from everywhere. "Close the door! Close the door! Run for your lives! Oh my GOD!"

Off in teh distance, there was a loud; "Avengers! Assemble!"

She looked forward and saw a metal door sliding down, blocking their path to the hallway beyond. Kurt ran through it easily, then shouted; "Don't bother with the elevator, Spike! Follow me!"

"You two better bleedin' know what you're doin," Spike shouted, then did a rather impressive tuck-and-roll underneath the closing door, managing to get both of them through. Following Kurt's advice, he breezed past the elevator just as it dinged and opened, and he got through the door at the end of the hallway along with Kurt.

Anne fidgeted in Spike's arms, really wishing at the moment she could've been the cool heroine that proved she didn't need help from a man in order to break out of the Initiative, but the fact was, she really couldn't run for crap and she had to accept the fact she needed the help. She was blushing, wishing she hadn't worn that stupid skirt no matter how hot it had been.

Spike and Kurt managed to get out of the Initiative, and as soon as they made it into the cool, night air, Spike unceremoniously dumped her on the grass. She hit with an 'oof' than stood up, rearranging her clothes so nothing showed.

"Nice knickers, luv," Spike commented. She glared at him. "So I dragged you two along _why?"_

"Well, like you coulda broke on your own," Anne pointed out, looking him over with a blush on her cheeks. He'd seen her underwear. How embarrassing.

"I think I've done this before, luv, an' I don't remember either of you . . ." He shook his head. "Odd. It's like I'm rememberin' a dream . . . all bloody vague . . . started when I tasted your blood . . ."

From out of nowhere, there was a high pitched yell and an explosion to their left. They all jumped and watched as another girl ran out of the entrance, five commandoes following her, all of them shooting rocket launchers and laser guns at her.

She dove expertly out of the way, her long, black hair shining in the light, whipping around her head with every move. Her black clothes clung to her thin, yet perfectly curved, body, and her pale skin glowed with effulgence. Kurt, Spike, and Anne all watched in mild amazement and mostly confusion as she single-handedly fought the five commandoes, her body moving blithely from one attack to the next. Her dark eyes shone brilliantly when she fought, somehow managing to capture the light from the moon every time she moved.

"Lemme guess--Raven?" Anne asked casually.

"Don't know; didn't see her. Probably, though," Kurt answered.

"Wait, Raven?" Spike asked, looking at her. "Oh, bloody hell," he muttered just as she snapped the last commando's neck.

Anne looked at Kurt with her face scrunched up in confusion. "Huh?"

Kurt sighed. "They know each other."

"Spike!" Raven cried epically, tossing her sheet of black hair over her shoulder beautifully.

Spike blinked. "Raven. Long time no see."

They flew at each other, and began fighting. It was a blur of perfectly choreographed moves that would have been incredibly epic, but really, nobody cared about that.

Anne turned to Kurt, ignoring the fighting sounds and yells and insults they threw at each other. "Right, so, they know each other how?"

Kurt sighed. "They were best friends when they were human. She was a slayer, and her watcher raped her. Anyway, she killed her watcher 'cause he taunted her about William's death or something, and then William found her, tortured and killed her family in front of her, and then accidentally sired her 'cause he bit her neck and sucked her blood, and she kicked him and a bloody wound fell on her mouth and she drank his blood but 'cause he was newly sired or whatever he didn't know that would do anything. So basically, she's spent the last hundred and twenty years competing with him. She told me the story like five thousand times."

Anne blinked rapidly. "And . . . now she has a chip in her head. What the hell kind of plot is _that?"_

There was a poof, a small cloud of smoke, and the girl from the store came running up to them. "Oh! Oh, good, you two are okay!"

"What the--" Kurt exclaimed, looking her over.

"I am _so_ sorry, I didn't mean to--" She stopped talking and looked in the direction of the two fighting vampires. "What's goin' on there?"

"Long story. What the hell are you doing here?" Anne asked, confused.

"Okay, look, this is totally all my fault--I kinda have this thing for writing, like how--"

Spike came flying at them, having been thrown by Raven, and he bowled over Kurt and Anne. They were a tangle of limbs, the girl form the store staring down at them with a confused expression on her face.

"You filthy harlot! I'm gonna kill you!" Spike growled, trying to disentangle himself from Kurt and Anne.

"Yeah, right! Watch this!" Raven shouted as her hands started to glow a bright purple. A purple ball of energy materialized in between her palms and she threw it at Spike. It hit him in the chest, and a light engulfed him, Anne, and Kurt.

They all yelled out for about two seconds before they all landed unceremoniously on the pavement beneath them.

"Get off!" Anne ordered in a muffled tone, trying to push both her brother and Spike off of her. Spike violently shoved Kurt's head away from his, then growled out in pain, as Anne tried to slither her way out from underneath them, which was proving difficult.

"Don't shove my face, dick!" Kurt shouted, then pushed Spike's narrow shoulders, knocking him off of Anne. Anne scooted away and stood up quickly, once again fixing her skirt so her underwear wasn't visible to the whole world, and watched as Spike's attempts to throttle her brother were thwarted by the chip in his head. The two of them began wrestling in the middle of the street, Spike growling out in pain every few seconds while her brother attempted to keep Spike pinned to the street.

Anne rolled her eyes. "Guys, come on. He can't fight anyway, Kurt."

"Oi! I can fight!" Spike protested just as Kurt stood up and brushed himself off.

Kurt looked at Spike, who was still on the ground looking very much like a kicked puppy, and scoffed. He walked over to Anne, and the two of them fell into step and started walking away from Spike, talking in hushed tones. "Where are we?"

Anne shrugged. "Dunno."

"Oh, yeah, thanks for _all_ the help, sis," Kurt grumbled.

* * *

A/N--Right, well . . . [chuckles nervously] you know Raven's history? With the accidental siring and the watcher who raped her constantly, and the whole William/Raven best friendship to rival Willow and Xander's? Oh, and the whole rivalry thing they have going on, epic hate that lasted a century (but it was actually repressed sexual tension) just for her to end up getting a chip in her head? Well . . . yeah, I actually had that story written down, and very nearly posted. Granted, the bint couldn't read (literally, she couldn't) and as it turned out, William purpsely sired her but she thought it was an accident, but yeah. That is my story. Looking back on it, I dunno WHAT I was thinking . . .

Raven represents the type of Mary Sue I used to write a couple of years ago. The depressing Emo/Punk/Goth mixture Sue with the tragic past. Thank God I never posted those fics.

**Next time: Spike owes Kurt, Drusilla's dotty, and does Anne look like a hooker?**


	5. Play That Funky Music

Chapter Four: Play That Funky Music

_Previously, on Boffy the Vampire Layer:_

_"Buffy," the Judge said as he watched Buffy hang onto the ledge, trying to prevent herself from falling to her death. "I _am_ your father."_

_"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO(three minutes later)OOOOOOO!"_

_FLASH!_

_"Well now isn't that somethin'," Caleb said as he tilted his head to get a better look of Buffy's short skirt. "I figured she'd be wearin' panties."_

_The First scoffed and rolled its eyes. "You're such a pig, Caleb."_

_FLASH!_

_Drusilla looked up at Spike, her mouth in a tiny pout. "You can't blame a girl, Spike. You taste like ashes."_

_Spike cocked an eyebrow at her. "Well, luv, that's 'cause I smoke."_

_And now, onto the fic!_

"What were you expecting? An exact location? Well why don't I just pull out my random GPS and give you the longitude and latitude, then?"

Kurt sighed. "Fine, whatever. Guess we'll just have to--"

"Don't turn your back on me!" Spike shouted and they both looked over their shoulders to see him hop onto his feet. "I'm the Big Bad, yeah? Never turn your back on a vampire."

Kurt and her looked at each other, shrugged, then both started walking away again. "Look, obviously we've been sucked into a Mary Sue fic again--why it's _again_ I don't know but I'm fine with blaming Susan in some way. That's her Sue, isn't it? Same name from that Potterverse fic," Anne stated.

"Hey!" Spike called from behind them, then reached forward and grabbed the sleeve of Kurt's AC/DC shirt. "You could at least _act_ scared you poncey--"

"Let go," Kurt snapped, then tried to jerk away, only to have Spike yank harder. A loud rip filled their ears and Anne stifled a chuckle. Kurt looked down at the long tear that started on his sleeve, then went down his side in a jagged rip, exposing his side. "Asshole! I liked that shirt!" He shoved Spike.

Spike reared back his fist, thought better of it, and lowered his arm. "Look, I don't know what you two did, but--" He blinked a few times and shook his head, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. "My head, it's all . . . like I have a head cold . . ."

"You owe me a shirt," Kurt told him, raising his eyebrow.

"I owe you jack."

"What? Like hell you owe me jack, you stupid **FUNKY MUSIC."**

Anne looked at her brother and he furrowed his eyebrows. "What did you say?"

"I said, you stupid **FUNKY MUSIC."**

"Your . . . your voice got all weird there . . . And your mouth didn't, uh . . . you know. Like a dubbed Japanese film or something." Anne rubbed the back of her neck, her face scrunched up in confusion.

"Uh, I was trying to call him a . . . um, you know, when someone has sex with a mother. Rhymes with 'brother trucker.'"

"Oh, what, you mean a **FUNKY MUSIC** and holy hell that _so_ didn't sound like me. What the **FUNK** is goin' on here? Holy **POOP** it did it again!"

"Uh, mates, as amusin' as your li'l game is, I think we've got a situation here," Spike said.

Kurt got into a defensive stance and Anne looked around herself, copying her brother, expecting there to be vampires. They were the only ones on the dark street. Anne looked back at Spike, tossing her messy, dirty-blonde hair from her face. "What is it? I don't see anything."

"Are you two daft? I have a chip in m'skull, an' you two were goin' on about portals, and Raven did somethin' to us, an' what, you two don't even care? What the hell is wrong with . . ." He shook his head, as if trying to shake water off of his hair. "Déjà vu."

"I don't give a **POOP** you still owe me a new **FUNKY** shirt you **FUNKY** **ROCK** sucker."

"Look, mate, just 'cause you got all bloody censored doesn't mean you can throw those insults my way," he growled, stepping close to Kurt and tilting his head upward threateningly.

Kurt looked him up and down slowly, then scoffed. "You're short and chipped."

"Hey! I'm still dangerous, you know! I bit your sister!"

"For all of two **FUNKY** seconds. Yeah, that's real scary."

"Okay, guys, can we focus on the problem at hand here?" Anne said a bit loudly, but not so much angrily as in exasperation.

Kurt turned to her. "He started it when he tore my shirt!"

"What are you, five?" Spike asked with a teasing grin.

"Fine! God, Spike, can't you just . . . steal a shirt or something? And Kurt . . . Uh, quit antagonizing him. It's not his fault he can't fight back. Plus, it's mean--he's harmless."

"Oi! Could you not bleedin' emasculate me?"

"Like she needs to try very hard," Kurt scoffed with a smirk.

"Sod off! An' I'm not stealin' a damn thing for either of you! I'm a bad, evil vampire, an' I don't do stuff for ponces like you!"

* * *

CRASH! Glass fell to the floor like tinkling rain, glittering across the pavement. Spike hopped in through the window, ignoring the loud siren that wailed throughout the night. "And hurry up! I don't wanna go to jail, you know!" Kurt called loudly.

"Sod off!" Spike yelled back from somewhere in the store.

Anne and Kurt, despite the fact they were standing in front of an obviously-just-broken-into store with shattered glass around their feet and a siren wailing, were waiting casually. "So, how'd you get him to change his mind? You took him aside, next thing I know, he's dragging _me_ here. You didn't--I mean, you didn't decide to pop your cherry did ya? 'Bout time, that thing is gonna start attractin' fruit flies."

"No, nothing like that."

"Huh. Oh, well. Still a virgin then. But oh, remember the time you said that if you had to lose your virginity you'd wanna lose it to Spike?"

"Shh! Vampire hearing, asshole!" she whispered harshly. "And I said that 'cause he's fictional! Well, _was_ fictional. And it's not--it's not like I ever thought I'd ever bump into him, did I? God. Besides, I'm waiting, remember?"

"So what did you say?"

"I promised him some blood."

"No sex, but you'll let him snack on your neck?"

Anne shrugged. "He already bit it anyway. Besides, I can kick his ass now, thanks to the chip, so if I want him to stop I can just shove him away."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "That's so bloody stupid, Anne. You're gonna let him drink you? Well, whatever, must be some stupid chick thing. Don't care--I get clothes out of it. Maybe he'll knick you some vibratin' panties an' you can get all your hormonal jollies off that way."

"I'm surprised the random censors didn't replace that with something."

"We can talk about masturbating, right? It's not like I described it. It's not like I said you wanted to dip your **CHIPS** into your **YUM YUM** and start rockin' your G-**CHORD** until you orgasm."

Anne raised an eyebrow at her brother. "So, what . . . was I eating or playing guitar?"

"This **FUNKY** sucks. I like swearing."

"As do I," she muttered. "Anyway, at least you wore cool clothes. I'm stuck in a schoolgirl skirt. I hate skirts. Well, they're okay sometimes, but not, like . . . Well, I just wish I were wearing some pants, you know? Not much for the skirts. And, oh my God, Spike saw my underwear." She moaned and slapped her hand to her face.

"You're such a dumbass, Anne."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "What does that mean?"

"Nothin'. Anyway, sup, he stealin' anything for you too or what, you gonna be the grateful snack? If I were you, I'd be all 'sup, Spike, you steal me some money' and he'd be all 'sod off, get it yourself' and then I'd be all 'nuh-uh, I'm lettin' you drink my blood, money or starve, bitch' and he'd be like 'cool' and then I'd have money."

She scoffed. "That would be the same as stealing, Kurt. I don't steal." She fidgeted. "But I _may_ have, um, _hinted_ that I wanted something to eat 'cause I'm hungry. And makeup. The kind that Drusilla wears."

"Sin of omission, bitch. Same as doin' the deed."

She smacked his arm playfully. "Shut up."

"Just admit it--the only reason you don't steal is' cause you're afraid of gettin' caught."

Spike suddenly jumped through the window, holding a bag that appeared to be full. "Come on, brats, let's move! Bloody siren had to warn someone!" he shouted.

They all ran, following Spike who seemed to have an idea of where to go in mind already. Naturally, Spike was quite a ways ahead of them, and Kurt was only a few paces behind Spike, but Anne was lagging, Being a slow runner, and really crappy at athletics, was really starting to piss her off.

Spike tossed the bag at Kurt, doubled back, swept Anne into his arms, and took the lead again. She blushed and looked at anywhere but his face. "You didn't have to carry me this time," she managed through her heavy breaths, trying to ignore the aching in her lungs and the fact she'd wheezed at some time in her sentence.

"Yeah right. Few more seconds and we woulda lost you. You'd better have good blood, luv."

"You've already had a taste. You should know if I'm good or not."

Spike didn't reply.

* * *

"An orange hoody? What the hell? Do I _look_ like Kenny Mc**FUNKY**Cormick to you?"

Spike grabbed Anne's wrist. "Technically, it's a parka. Look, I grabbed what you asked for, an' I was in a hurry, an' you're a generously sized fella--grabbed the first thing that looked like it would fit you. So sod off. Now, if you 'scuse us, I gotta take the li'l lady aside for a mo'."

Kurt's hazel eyes looked Spike over hesitantly. "Whatever."

Spike, none-too-gently, led Anne to the nearest room in the factory. It wasn't burnt up, so that meant it had to be before _Passion_.

As soon as they were in the next room, he shoved her against the wall. "Right, then, let's get start--OW!" He jerked back and held his forehead.

She scoffed. "You can't _intend_ to hurt me."

"Well I wasn't intendin' to kill you."

"I told you--you can't hurt living things. Hurt doesn't mean dead."

"No, you said I could kill demons, but not humans."

"Whatever. Semantics."

He grabbed the side of her face and growled. "Not bloody semantics. Killing an' hurting are two different things."

"Whatever. Don't try to bite me--just, you know . . . get rid of the scabs on my neck. Drink the blood that resurfaces. Not a big deal." He leaned forward again, then growled and pulled away, holding his head. "God, you suck at this."

"Oh, an' I suspect you're a genius when it comes to chips, then?"

Anne shrugged. "Well, fine, if you can't bite me without intending to hurt me, we'll just have to do this another time. See ya."

He grabbed her shoulders. "Oh, I can."

"Oh yeah? Do it, then," she taunted.

He squeezed her shoulders tighter and gave her a little shake. "Fine, I will."

"Go on; I'm waiting."

He growled, went to bite her, then jumped away from her and pressed a hand to his forehead. Anne started laughing. He glared at her, his blue eyes darkening with anger. "Shut up; it's not bloody funny."

"Oi! Son of a bitch!" Kurt yelled loudly, then burst into the room, the orange hoody looking strange on him. "Spike! You're **FUNKY** girlfriend is bein' a psycho little bitch and you better make her--" He cut himself off with a manly shriek, and Drusilla pounced into the room, managing to punch him in the head, a cut appearing on his temple and blood trickling down his face.

"A giant kitty meow George Clooney giant rooster bitches!" Drusilla shouted, spun in a few circles repeatedly, whipping her hair around, then started laughing hysterically. "I have a penis in my forehead!"

Anne furrowed her eyebrows. "Wow, Susan really can't write Dru for **POOP** can she?"

"What the hell's wrong with my girl?" Spike asked, tilting his head to the side.

Dru plopped onto her hands and knees, then crawled over to Kurt and latched onto his leg, chewing on his leg viciously. Kurt was vainly trying to kick her off like a puppy, but it wasn't working. "Oi, Spike! Do somethin', ya bitch!"

Spike calmly walked over, grabbed Drusilla's arm, and lifted her away from Kurt. "Dru, baby, uh . . . What the hell?"

"Sup, G, what you been doin' with that ho?" Drusilla asked randomly and stepped away from Spike, her white dress clinging to her frail form. "You ain't been cheatin' on me like a giant box with crackers and nails and Justin Timberlake, right? Oi! You're a pretzel!" she screamed shrilly, then dropped on all four legs and started hissing like a cat. She pounced at Anne, and started biting and scratching her ankle.

Anne instinctively kicked Drusilla in the face, as blood started gushing out of her wound like a waterfall. "Ah! What the hell? That's way too much blood for a tiny--" As soon as she mentioned it, the blood died down and started dripping slowly, like it should have been. Drusilla started lapping up the pool of blood left over from the giant gush fest that made no sense from earlier.

"Uh . . . somethin' isn't right 'bout any o' this. This got somethin' to do with the chip?" Spike asked, scratching the side of his head.

"Uh . . . yeah," Anne muttered, looking down at her cut and bleeding ankle, wincing at the slight sting, then eyed Drusilla, who was rolling in the pool of blood and dirtying her white dress and pale face. She stared at the outfit and scowled. "God, I look like a whore . . ."

"Not really. Your skirt goes to your knees. Whores barely cover their vagina," Spike stated.

"No, she looks like a hooker," Kurt countered.

Anne sighed, then smoothed down her skirt. "Did you happen to keep those blindfolds? I don't wanna walk around with this, uh . . . cut ankle."

Spike reached into his duster pocket and pulled out the black blindfold. "Uh, yeah, guess so," he muttered. He tossed it to Anne, who caught it, fumbled with it for a second, then knelt on one knee, tying the blindfold around her wound.

"Hey, can you toss me the other one? Got a cut on my head."

Spike tossed Kurt the other one, and he tied it around his head like bandana.

Drusilla chose that moment to walk over to Spike and start humping his leg. "Oooh, I see clouds and they're like knives and giant cockroaches! Spike, let's shag right the hell now--I'm horny as all get go--ooh, Halloween makes her weak, Spike! Ooh!"

Spike raised an eyebrow at her, shrugged, then started snogging her senseless.

Kurt and Anne looked at each other, shrugged, then left the room. He led her over to the bag. "Yeah, he got a red-and-black striped tie, and that's it. You wanna try it on? It'd look cool with your costume. You know, 'cause real schoolgirl outfits have ties an' **POOP** so you might not look like too much of a tramp."

"Shut up, it was really hot, okay?" Anne muttered, going over to the bag and pulling out the black-and-red tie. "This kinda looks like Lauren Cooper's tie. Hey, _she's_ a dead schoolgirl."

"Maybe. Sup, no **FUNKY** food? I'm fu--uh, _bloody_ hungry."

Anne held the tie in her hand, looking at it with her brows furrowed. "Um, how do you put ties on?"

"It ain't hard," Kurt grumbled, grabbed his sister's wrist, and pulled her to him. He flung the tie around her neck and tied it for her, and a few seconds later, he was done.

She looked down at what she was wearing. Her hair was still slightly messy, her pleated skirt was uneven so she fixed it, and she was wearing a tie which looked quite odd considering she was wearing a spaghetti stringed shirt. The black blindfold didn't exactly do much for her fashion, either. "Um, maybe I should change . . ." she muttered.

"Nah, you look fine."

Just then, the TV that Spike had watched recordings of Buffy fighting on went static for a second, and started showing the news. There was a girl standing in front of the store that Spike had broken into, and now that they were seeing it from a distance, Anne had to admit it looked vaguely familiar. "We interrupt your broadcast for this breaking story. Ethan's, a new costume shop, was broken into only a few moments ago. We have yet to find the person who did it. We now return you to your original programming." The TV switched off.

Kurt and Anne looked at each other. When her eyes roved over his orange hoody, realization dawned on his features. "Oh, son of a bitch," he grumbled.

Anne's hands went to her tie the second Kurt grabbed the bottom of his hoody, but before they could remove the items of clothing, they both felt a sudden wave of light-headedness.

* * *

A/N--If you wanna know why my character, Anne, is wearing that skirt, it's because I had actually jsut been forced to go to Wal-Mart wearing a skirt and shirt just like that. Except, I had to wear it because my mom was picking me up from work (as a surprise) and my brother just threw in random clothes in my bag, and surprise, they were all skirts and shirts. And we live in Utah, and it was snowing. Not very pleasant. So, to make it realistic, I just had me wear exactly waht I was wearing when I wrote the first chapter. I did the very same thing in my first parody, too.

Also, if you wanna know who Lauren Cooper is (and a lot of the next chapter will whizz by your head if you don't know) then go to youtube and look Lauren Cooper (or Catherine Tate) up. My favourite skits are Chemistry, French Class, the wedding one, and the one with David Tennant.

**Next time: Drusilla's a bastard, Willow snogs someone interesting, and someone certainly isn't bothered.**


	6. Cor! Chaotic Chaos!

**WARNING!!!**

**There may be certain characters in this chapter who have racist opinions that DO NOT reflect my own. If you can't handle one or two "racist sentences" or racist jokes for that matter, then not only should you probably not read on, but you should probably grow up.**

**Also, there may or may not be a 'ship in the following chapter that may or may not give you the willies. I'll give you a little warning, poppets: It's one of those "May/December, Cradle-Robbing" 'ships. It's brief, but you never know--you might be "bovvered."**

**Also, if you don't know who Lauren Cooper is, now would be the time to look her up on YouTube.**

Chapter Five: Cor! Chaotic Chaos!

_Previously, on Bunny the Demon Killer:_

_"Bob, oh no! The porch just broke!" Bob's wife called dramatically._

_He looked down at his toolbelt._

_Bob is a builder . . . but **can** he fix it?_

_FLASH!_

_Spike strolled merrily through the park while he smoked his cigarette. A few seconds later, Xander came running at him. Spike rolled his eyes, and tossed his cigarette to the ground. "What do you want now, Harris?"_

_Xander tackled him to teh ground. "You stole my pet chicken and stuffed him in your pants, asshole!"_

_FLASH!_

_Shane looked at the lighting on teh set, then down at Christian, who was emoting perfectly. He hadn't flubbed any of his lines yet, seeing as he was such an amazing actor. However, teh entire scene looked like crap becasue the lighting was off. Sighing, he brushed off his pants and started over to the lights. He had to fix them, or teh scene would be completely ruined. He figured it wouldn't really be that big of a deal. After all, it was his job to fix the lights. Christian would be able to handle it._

_Right?_

_On with the story!_

* * *

Normally, Spike would be all for a shag with Dru. No, really. Why the hell would he pass up a chance to throw her to the floor and take her hard? Dru was his eternal love--so she had gone off with yet another disgusting demon--why she had a fascination with leaving Spike for ugly, slimy demons was beyond him--but there she was, throwing herself at him like a dog in heat.

Which may have been what was putting him off. She was humping his leg. Literally.

But just as he was getting over the fact and accepting her crazier-than-normal behaviour, he realized something--why the _hell_ was Drusilla humping his leg? Something just wasn't right with that picture.

He shoved her away delicately. "Bugger off, Dru," he snapped, moving to leave.

"Mwahahaha! Halloween is a stick of fiery hair! She's a silly little cow! Moo!" She fell over and clutched her stomach, laughing hysterically. Spike blinked a few times. Normally her nonsense wasn't so much nonsense as metaphor, but now she really was acting like a proper loon. Not even a proper loon--like a faker.

"Right . . . Uh, Halloween? Didn't we do that already?" He scratched his forehead in thought, then remembered Raven shooting at him (and Anne and Kurt) with that purple ball of energy. "Oh, great."

Drusilla stood up slowly, then tilted her head at him. "Nee," she whispered. Then she started prancing around the room and cupping her hands together. "The swallow is African, dammit!"

Spike shook his head and left the room, leaving Drusilla alone, and decided to go get a taste of that virgin blood that Anne had promised him. He could learn to not intend to hurt someone and still tear into her neck. Right?

Anne and Kurt weren't there anymore. Instead, there was a little kid mumbling something, and a girl in a schoolgirl outfit with red hair braided down her back. It took Spike a moment to remember Kurt had been wearing an orange hoody, and the little kid was wearing an orange parka, and that Anne had been wearing a semi-schoolgirl outfit, although the red-headed girl was wearing a proper one as opposed to whatever Anne had been wearing.

_Right, the Halloween nonsense . . . An' not the mildly boring one with snogging vamps in cars,_ Spike thought, furrowing his brows slightly.

Where the hell had that memory come from?

"Oi! Who are you, then? What the hell is this place? Where the hell am I?" said the red-headed girl, and she sounded like a chav.

"Mmmpph mm mmmph mumble murf muh?" the kid mumbled incoherently. Spike looked at him. He had blue eyes. That was his only noticeable feature.

"Right, this is . . . weird as hell, but it seems we've gone back in time," Spike told them, lifting up both of his hands.

"Wha?" demanded the chav-who-used-to-be-Anne.

"Muh?" the boy mumbled.

"Back in time. To Halloween. You've turned into your costumes; you're not who you think you are . . ."

"Wha? I'm not bein' funny or nothin', but wha, you got Billy Idol envy?" she asked, raising both of her hands and staring at Spike like he had offended her honour.

"Huh?"

"Is that a leather duster?"

"Yeah."

"An' your hair--is that radioactive or somethin'?"

"What? It's not--"

"It's radioactive--yes--look at it! It's bleached radioactive! Come on, sir--sir--sir--sir--sir--can I ox you a question? Can I ox--can I ox--CAN I OX YOU A QUESTION!?" Despite the fact Spike had tried to talk over her, she had managed to talk over him. It was infuriating as hell, and Spike could feel his anger starting to thrum in his veins.

"What the hell do you want?" he growled angrily, throwing his hands into the air. "Ask your bloody question then!"

She raised her eyebrows and stared at him like he was nothing more than a peon in her eyes. Spike glared at her--he had had enough of those glares when he was human. He'd be damned if he let some teenaged bint stare at him like that. "You got Billy Idol envy?"

"He took my image, I'll have you know."

"Don't care."

"He did."

"But do I care, though?"

He clenched his jaw angrily. "But--"

"Do I care?"

"Oh you stupid--"

"Are you callin' me stupid?" she demanded, stamping her foot.

He smirked at her. "Well, yeah, s'pose I am."

The kid in the orange hoody started laughing, holding his stomach while he bent over and started smacking his hand on his knees. "Mumff har ffrum murf mufff mmph muh mmmm!" he managed through his giggles.

"Are you callin' my mum a pikey?" she spat.

"What?" he asked, having absolutely no idea where the hell she'd come up with that.

"Are you callin' my father a wino?"

"What the--"

"But he ain't even a wino though! But he ain't even a wino though! Look at my face! Are you disrespectin' my family? Look at--look--face--look--face--_White Wedding_--don't care--do you have Billy Idol envy, sir?"

"That's it!" he growled after having been interrupted a thousand times in the last sentence. He grabbed her shoulders roughly and shook her violently, his anger just as powerful as the pain in his head for being so rough with her. "I'm gonna kill you!"

"Am I bovvered?"

Spike grabbed her by the braid and rammed her, head first, into the wall. Pain ricocheted throughout his skull and he cried out, grabbing his forehead. "Damn this chip!" he snapped angrily, realizing that the pain in his head was so intense, he wondered if he would've been able to listen to her prattle on for much longer. Then again, the pain was already gone, and she was still knocked out. Just like shooting the slayer would've been, had he actually pulled the trigger.

When the hell had that happened?

The boy's laughs interrupted his thoughts. Spike turned and looked at him. "You--boy--your name's not Kenny, is it?"

The boy's laughs slowed to a stop and he stood up fully. "Yeah," he said, his voice barely audible through his parka.

Spike sighed and rolled his eyes, and a second later, Drusilla came running out. "Just like the pied piper!" she sang shrilly, jumped at the boy, and snapped his neck. She turned to Spike, smiled widely, and said; "Oh my God, I killed Kenny! I'm a bastard!"

"Right, yeah, good one pet . . ." he said with a raised eyebrow, then ignored her as she tottered away.

Kenny calmly stood up, grabbed his head and cracked it into its normal position, and then brushed off his orange parka with a sigh.

Spike rubbed the back of his head. "Get used to the whole dyin' thing then?"

Kenny nodded. "Yeah," he answered with a sad tilt of his head and he scuffed the ground with his shoe.

"Gather that you'd be a bit more open to, uh, odd things goin' on than what's-her-face, then?"

He shrugged.

"Right, then. Well, you're not yourself--neither is she. You two are related, in fact. Yeah, well, I got m'self a slayer to kill--you make sure Dru doesn't touch the girl--she tries to, just tell her that she's my dinner, an' not hers. Girl promised me her virgin blood, an' I'm gonna have it."

"Muh um ow mmphh miff?"

"What?"

Kenny sighed, punched the air, yelled, then clutched his forehead.

"Play through the pain, I s'pose. Now, I gotta go. Got a sweet li'l slayer all bloody weak, an' I'm takin' advantage of the situation. Not like last time--took my time tearin' into her throat--now I'll just snap her bloody neck. This is gonna be bloody priceless."

* * *

Spike was surprised at how at ease he felt at walking to the slayer's house, despite the fact he'd only been there twice before. It should have made him feel a little uneasy, seeing as it was his arch nemesis after all and his most recent memory of her had been of her ripping his ring off his finger. Yet, oddly, he was remembering things that had never happened--they felt like dreams--dreams of him standing outside her window, smoking, or sneaking into her house for a shag, and him hanging out with some little girl who claimed to be the slayer's sister despite the fact he knew Buffy was an only child.

What surprised him even further was when he saw Red. He remembered her dressed as a right slut, but as far as he'd been concerned, she hadn't been one.

As soon as he went to the house, Willow threw herself at him. "Hey baby. You know what Tulsa is backwards?"

He frowned, and pushed her off him. "A slut?" he answered, looking her over and checking out her amazing body. Well, hell, maybe shoving her away hadn't been a very good idea.

"Precisely," she said with a wink, before wrapping her arm around his. "You know what a slut is backwards?"

"Tulsa?" he responded, wrapping his arm around her waist and giving her a devilish grin.

"Five bucks," she told him, then began sucking on his earlobe.

Spike's groin started hardening almost painfully, so he turned and captured Red's mouth with his own. He could smell the virginity on her blood, and taste it on her tongue. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. "Wait a mo'--thought you gave up drivin' stick?"

She tilted her head at him. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

He shrugged. "Sod it." He thrust his tongue into her mouth again. He didn't know what was wrong with Red, or really, what the hell was wrong with him, but hey, if some hot little thing was throwing herself at him, then who was he to deny it?

Then he sensed her. Buffy. Her smell surrounded him. The prickling on the back of his neck that warned him a slayer was near appeared, and he removed his mouth from Willow, and turned to see Buffy, dressed (as he remembered) in her Victorian dress. She was walking towards them, and it looked as though she were fixing her hair. She was piling it on top of her head, the dress swishing around her ankles as she walked.

He shoved Willow away from him, and she knocked into a fat kid in a red coat that Spike just realized was standing there. He strolled over to Buffy. "Well, well, well, look who we've got here," he greeted, smirking evilly.

She turned her head to look at him, her brows furrowed. "William?" she greeted, her voice going upward into a question. She had an English accent.

"What?" he asked, unnerved to hear his human name from her mouth.

She gave him a small look over. "You look . . . different."

"What? I always look like this, luv."

"You sound different as well."

He looked around at all of the chaos, then back at her. "What the hell are you yammerin' on about then?"

"Are you telling me you don't recognize me? After all that pining you did, it's rather surprising."

"Uh . . . Wait, you remember that too? This is bloody weird--you know, I'm gettin' memories that aren't mine--sittin' on your porch, Joyce gettin' cancer . . . her dying . . . Wait a mo', did we shag?"

"I beg your pardon? William . . . I've told you before . . . You're beneath me, I would _never--"_

He frowned. "Wait . . . You're not Buffy?"

"Of course not! Who's Buffy? It's me, Cecily Addams-slash-Underwood! Dur-hur!" She rolled her eyes. "Like, can't you even, like, recognize your total epic crush?"

"You're a bit different," he pointed out. "Uh, this is _all _a bit different . . . Look, the slayer dressed up as a Victorian girl, and for some bloody reason took your form. It's not 1880, bint. It's 1997."

She tilted her head. "It explains the advanced technology. Oh, by the way, I'm actually a vengeance demon. Toodles." She waved her fingers at him, swung her arm, and disappeared in a poof of smoke.

He blinked a few times. "Right . . . Cecily's a vengeance demon . . . named Halfrek. Why do I know this?" He turned back to Willow, to see her snogging a random guy on the street. "Bloody sodding wanking hell she's a right trollop! Tally-ho!" he exclaimed loudly. "Cor, you're a fit li'l wench!"

Willow stopped making out with the random guy, and turned to him. "Lest we ne'er meet 'gain, dear William, let us take advantage of the morrow!" she proclaimed, throwing herself at him, and thrusting her tongue down his throat.

Spike shook his head. "Alas, dear lady, I cannot--my heart belongs to one fair maiden--Elizabeth Anne Summers!" His accent had faded back into his polished, refined accent of his human years.

Willow pulled away from him. "Thou jest, surely?"

"Cor--cor--cor--cor--" he repeated, sounding very much like a scratched record. "Bloody--sodding--shag--cor--cor--"

"Oi? What the hell is wrong with you?" the fat kid shouted.

Spike turned to him. "Don't rightly know . . . Who the hell are you?"

Willow wrapped her arm around Spike's shoulders. "It _was_ Xander. He dressed as something other than a soldier this time around."

"Well bloody sodding wankering hell."

The fat kid, who Spike realized was named Cartman, glared at him. "What do you mean, Xander?"

* * *

Kenny was used to the weird things happening. After all, most people didn't die pretty much every day. His town was full of idiots who took everything to the extreme. So he wasn't really affected when the bleached British guy told him he really wasn't Kenny, but someone dressed up as him for Halloween. It was strange to think that he wasn't really himself, but hey, no stranger than being chased by Death, or being killed thousands of times, or Cartman being abducted by aliens, or the massive stupidity of the adults of South Park, or . . . Well, actually, it wasn't really strange at all. To him, it was normal everyday life.

That Drusilla chick came out and killed him a few more times, but thankfully left the annoying ginger bitch alone, because Kenny had told her that it was Spike's dinner. Actually, she hadn't understood anything he'd said, so after a very lengthy round of charades, she finally understood what he meant.

He calmly sat by the unconscious girl's body, remembering that the Spike guy had told him they were related.

He wondered if that was going to be awkward later on for him, seeing as he had looked up her skirt.

She started stirring and he stood up, brushing off his parka. It was extremely hot in the town he was in--too hot for a parka, anyway--and he considered taking it off. When she stood up, she looked down on him, and raised her eyebrow. "Who the hell are you, then?" she asked, bobbing her head a bit as she spoke.

"I'm Kenny," he told her. "This is gonna be weird, but we're actually related, but we don't remember because we dressed as other people for Halloween and we became our costumes. And I think you're really hot and I saw your vagina, but we're not related right now so I hope it doesn't make things awkward when we get our memories back."

She blinked at him. "What the hell did you just say?"

Kenny rolled his eyes. Why did everyone have such a hard time hearing him? None of his friends ever had a problem--it couldn't have been that difficult. It wasn't like Cartman was the brightest bulb in the box. "That guy who knocked your ass out said that I wasn't really Kenny and you weren't really whoever you think you are, but we're actually other people dressed as us, and our memories were switched."

"Whatever, I can't understand what you're saying," she said, then sighed. "That guy knocked me out, though! I'm gonna kill him!" She stormed out of the factory, with Kenny watching.

He smacked his forehead with his hand when the door slammed shut, then followed her.

* * *

"Oi! You can shut your fu**BEEP**in' Jew mouth!" Cartman shouted, pointing at the red-headed bitch that was dressed like a serious ho. "I'm Eric Cartman!"

"Hey! Now that's just uncalled for!" Willow, as she had introduced herself, shouted. "You're Xander Harris, only you don't know who you are!"

"Listen up, ho--I'm Eric Cartman, and you kidnapped me, probably for some stupid Jew ritual! Now take me back home, or there's gonna be a serious beat down! You think I won't hit a girl?" he shouted, stomping his foot.

"What makes you think you can go around being prejudiced like that?"

"All right, time for me to kick some ass! I told you to take me home, and you wouldn't. So come on. Let's get this fight started, ho," he said, rolling up the sleeves to his coat.

Willow shook her head, then kicked him in the shin as he advanced on her.

Cartman started sobbing hysterically.

"Cor--bloody--knickers--sodding--wank--tosser--" Spike muttered, and with each word, his head ticked to the side.

There was a poof of smoke, and a beautiful girl with long, black hair and large, luminous black eyes appeared. "Spike! I'm so totally gonna kick your ass!" she shouted, pointing dramatically at him.

"Raven! You stupid bint! What the hell have you done?" he demanded. "First, I got a bloody chip in m'skull, now I've got that sodding fat kid sobbing an' Harris is supposed to be a solider, Red isn't ghost-like at all but a sodding trollop and cor mate I'm spoutin' off all these sodding British phrases like every bloody word that comes out of my sodding mouth is British slang! Blimey!"

Cartman stomped his foot. "I wanna go home!"

"How the hell are they gonna get the idea for the rocket launcher without Harris bein' a soldier, you stupid sodding bint?"

"Why isn't anyone paying attention to me?" Cartman yelled shrilly before sobbing louder.

"God, would you shut up already?" Willow ordered.

Cartman wiped his tears from his chubby face. "Shut up, ho."

* * *

Spike glared at Raven, hating the way she looked so damn shaggable in the moonlight. He tried to ignore the chaos of Cartman/Xander and Slut!Willow getting into a screaming match until Cartman finally jumped up and yanked on her hair, and they started wrestling on the sidewalk, but that grew increasingly difficult when the two of them started snogging as if their lives depended on it.

"Me? You think I did this?" Raven asked, then threw back her head in laughter. "No way in hell am I leavin' this universe. It's way too much fun!" she said with a giggle. "Plus, all these memories, and powers? And no conscience. Who'd wanna give that up?"

"What? Whaddaya mean you're not--"

"Hey, you stupid pikey!" he heard a chavtastic voice shout, and he turned around to see the red-headed bint from earlier running at him. "You knocked me out."

"Oh bugger," Spike groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead.

"Mmm! Mmm!" Kenny shouted, running after the schoolgirl. Suddenly he shrieked, and Spike saw Drusilla chasing after him. He shrieked louder.

"Oh, bloody hell. I love chaos an' all, but this is ridiculous!"

"Oh, William, since when have you enjoyed chaos? What about placing your energies into creating beauty?" he heard Buffy say in an English accent. He turned and saw her walking towards him, raising one eyebrow at him elegantly.

He turned back to Raven, who suddenly had a sword and was twirling it expertly. "How about we end this rivalry once and for all?"

POOF! There was a puff of smoke and a blonde girl appeared, waving her hand in front of her face and coughing. "You know, you guys are hard to get a hold of," she muttered, then looked around.

Before Spike could ask who the hell she was, Raven punched him in the face, and he tasted blood in his mouth. While Kenny screamed like a little girl as Dru chased him in circles, Cartman and Willow made out, and Lauren yelled at Spike in an increasingly annoying voice, Spike attempted to fight Raven, but that was difficult, what with her being a far better fighter than he was normally and all the distraction.

"What's going on?" the new girl asked, looking around with a bemused expression on her face.

Spike blocked a punch. "Who the hell are you?"

"It doesn't matter. Where are those two kids? A girl and a guy. They're brother and sister."

Spike ducked under a punch. "The boy is the kid in the orange parka, and the girl is that bloody annoying chav! Sodding buggering bloody hell bint cor blimey tally ho ta!"

Drusilla started laughing maniacally. "Ooooh, the mice are blowing up! Yippee! Cheese is yummy, but lye is scratchy!"

"Look at my face!" Lauren shouted. "Why the hell isn't anyone payin' attention to me?"

"William? Why is your hair bleached?"

"Mmf mmmm murf mumble mm mmmf ma!" Kenny cried out, his voice high pitched.

Spike let out a yell of rage, then attacked Raven with wild abandon, hitting every inch of her he could possibly hit. She responded with just as much hostility, but Spike's blind rage was fuelling him. Her black hair swung around her head beautifully while she laughed, and for a moment, Spike couldn't even remember why they hated each other so much.

"Somebody wish for Ethan to break the statue dammit!" the bleached newcomer shouted.

"What?" Spike demanded before getting a sharp kick to the gut.

"Just do it!"

"No! Don't! Don't!" Raven screamed, charging at the girl with super-human speed.

"I wish Ethan would break the bloody sodding wanking knickers cor blimey ta tea crumpets biscuits scones sodding wank Manchester United Cockney tosser ghoulies brilliant statue!" he shouted.

"Done!" the girl shouted before Raven tackled her.

There was a flash of light, and Spike felt the familiar sensation of falling once more.

* * *

A/N--Cartman is racist. I am not. Also, the weird pairing was Cartman/Willow. Cartman is eight and Willow is sixteen, but hell, Ike was like five when he slept with his thirty-something year old teacher. Disclaimer: I do not own _South Park._ Trey and Matt do.

**Next time: Does Spike get some virgin blood? And why is Buffy looking for Spike?**


	7. Asking For It

Chapter Six: Asking For It

_Previously Buffy the **ROCK** Sucker:_

_Willow sucked on her joint then blew out the smoke into Xander's face. "This is some nice ganja, mon."_

_Xander nodded, his dreadlocks bobbing. "Yah, mon. I be seein' Bob Marley, mon."_

_Spike raised his eyebrows. "This is so bloody stereotypical. I expected better o' you, Red."_

_FLASH!_

_A giant monkey flew in and tore Buffy's head off. Giles sighed. "There goes our ratings for the next seven years."_

_FLASH!_

_Buffy and Dawn stood on top of the tower, the dimensional tear spewing demons and dragons forth. "Buffy . . . it's my blood. As long as it's flowing it'll never stop."_

_Buffy remembered the first slayer's words. "Death is my . . . gift . . ." she whispered, as black hair started sprouting her head and her nose lengthened and curved. She whipped out a wand as black robes appeared on her body._

_Dawn blinked. "What the . . . Snape?" Her hand blackened and white hair shot from her chin and head, "Buffy . . . please . . ."_

_Buffy's eyes were full of loathing. "Avada kedavra!" she shouted, and Dawn was shot off the tower to her death._

_And on with this parody . . ._

* * *

"Why am I always the one on the **FUNKY** bottom?" Anne groaned, wriggling as she tried to stand up. "Could you all get off me please?"

Spike, Kurt, and the bleached girl got off of her, and she stood up, popping her back. She looked at Spike, who was glaring at Kurt, and then at her brother, who was staring at the bleached girl they'd seen at the store.

"Okay, what the _bloody_ hell is goin' on here?" Spike demanded.

"Okay, um . . ." the girl started, smiling nervously. "I made an eensy, weensy tiny little mistake."

Spike stormed over to her, blue eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

"Um . . . Well, it's kinda complicated . . . I sorta accidentally screwed up the universe. Sorry?"

Spike reared back his fist and went to punch her in the face, but before his fist connected, she disappeared, and the force of his punch spun him around. He tripped over his own feet, and his back smacked the ground.

Kurt laughed.

"Shut up, it isn't bloody sodding funny Cor! Cor! Cor, mate, cor--cor--cor--cor--" His head twitched with each word, and he finally pressed the heel of his hand to his head. "I dunno what's wrong with me."

Kurt laughed even harder, tears streaming down his face, pointing at Spike who was writhing on his back and holding his head, muttering over-the-top English swear words.

Anne sighed, feeling bad for him, then went over to Spike, and offered him her hand. He stared at her suspiciously, then grabbed her palm, and she helped him stand up. "Look . . . I know this is going to be weird, but--"

"Weird? Luv, after what just happened, I'm thinkin' I'll be a bit receptive to weird."

She sighed, then nodded. "Okay. Um . . . We're from a different dimension, and this is just a TV show. Uh, somehow, sometimes people write really crappy stories that take place in this universe . . . And, um, sometimes, uh, it actually starts screwing up the actual universe, and people--like me and Kurt--um, I meant Kurt and me, sorry, bad grammar--have to get the universe back to normal, or at least not so screwed up it implodes, before the fic ends. Because then the universe stays screwed up."

Spike looked at Kurt, who was still chuckling, then back at her. "What, an' you get paid to do it? It a job? How many of you are there?"

"Uh, there's just us--as far as I know--and, uh, no, we don't get paid. It's not a job, it just . . . sorta happens. Well, I actually don't really know how it happens--we've only done it once before, and that was in the Potterverse, and there was a spell Dumbledore used so . . . maybe it's different here?"

Spike pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. "Right . . . so . . . Why is it I'm the only one who catches onto the fact we're all actin' sixes an' sevens, dotty, barkers, mad, bloody crazed, cor--cor--wanker--" He cleared his throat. "Sorry 'bout that."

Anne shrugged. "Actually, uh, I dunno. The last time it happened, people who were good at Occlumency could sometimes block out the weirdness, but that doesn't exist here, so . . . Did anyone else act like they were aware?"

He shook his head, then stuffed his hands in his pockets. "No. Well, that girl with the bleached hair told me to make a wish, she seemed pretty together, if you ask me." He eyed her. "How's your head? Knocked you a good one."

She touched her forehead, then shrugged. "Fine. No pain. Oh, um . . . Sorry about the whole . . . uh, 'am I bovvered' thing. I didn't mean to be dressed like her."

Spike nodded. "Right. So, uh, what was that?"

"Um, I think it was an episode rewrite, time travel, _and_ a 'Xander dresses as something else' cliché fic. It ended because you wished for the statue to break, which breaks the spell, and therefore the cliché fic."

"That was the girl at the store we saw," Kurt stated, coming up beside Anne, hands in the pockets of the orange parka he was wearing. "Talk about even weirder. Normally that **POOP** doesn't bother me, but hell, last time this happened, we were the only ones who came from out dimension, y'know? So . . . is it her, or Susan, that we blame for the massive whatever-the-hell Halloween was? I mean, Willow snogging Cartman? What the **FUNK?** Least Buffy was normal."

"No, not really," Spike stated. "She turned into Cecily. Apparently, she's a vengeance demon named Halfrek. Dunno how I gathered that. These bloody memories keep budgin' into my head--things that haven't happened. It's weird as hell. Why me? Why not anyone else?"

Kurt shrugged, then readjusted the blindfold he used as a bandana. "Be **FUNKED** if I know."

Anne bit her bottom lip. "Well, we just have to figure out what you have that no one else here does. Dru's a vampire too, so it can't be that . . . could be the hair, or the jacket, or any number of things really, or maybe even the chip in your head, 'cause . . ." She trailed off, then slowly touched her neck. "Or it could be the fact you drank some of my blood . . . I mean, I'm aware of stuff, so . . ."

He eyed her neck. "Speakin' of, you owe me a taste."

"Girls are stupid," Kurt murmured. "Seriously, Anne? Lettin' him suck on your neck? Bloody stupid. Just 'cause you get all wet for him doesn't--"

"Kurt!" she snapped, then smacked his arm.

"Ready to take up your end of the bargain, luv? I'm hungry, an' I made sure Dru didn't eat you 'cause you're mi--"

"No!" Anne yelled, and jumped at him. The sudden weight of her on him made him topple over onto his back with her on top of him. Her hand was covering his mouth while she straddled him. "Don't say that!"

His eyes locked onto hers, and the intensity of them made her feel uncomfortable. She realized she was straddling him with only a skirt on, and she leapt off of him, fixing her skirt while clearing her throat. "Okay, um . . . 'nother cliché . . . I think . . ."

"Don't mind it," Spike revealed with a seductive grin as he stood.

"Okay, no flirting with my sister," Kurt ordered, glaring at Spike and towering over him.

Spike glared at him, then brushed past him and stood in front of Anne. "Right, so what did you jump on me for?"

She took a step backwards. "Well, I'm not sure how claiming works, but it usually starts with the vampire saying that someone is his. And trust me, I'm really not in the mood to be claimed in this universe. Because then I won't be able to leave without never being happy ever again, and feeling depressed and weak, and super-horny, because the woman practically becomes the guy's slave when she's sired, and no offence, but I don't really wanna be your slave."

"You gotta say it while you're bitin' the chit. An' how I know that, I don't even know, seein' as I've never even heard o' that before." He shrugged. "But, speakin' of biting, how 'bout we get that deal outta the way? Cor blimey sodding bint."

"Well, uh, we tried that already, and it didn't work."

"I can play through the pain luv. Tossed that annoying bint right into the wall, 'member? 'Sides, it might make me a bit more aware, an' it wouldn't hurt to have me on your side, yeah? Sod. Wanker. Trollop tart cor."

Kurt scoffed. "Go on, Anne, just do it. You're gonna eventually do it anyway."

Anne bit on her bottom lip. "Well . . . okay."

Spike grinned and grabbed her arm, and yanked her to him.

"You're not doin' that in front of me!" Kurt snapped. "I'm not a pervert, and I'm not incest, and I didn't look up your skirt when you were Lauren Cooper, okay?"

Anne and Spike both looked at him with their eyebrows arched, but before Anne could say anything, Spike grabbed her wrist and started leading her roughly away from her brother. She looked around the cemetery, noticing that Spike's fingers were digging into her skin, right above her pulse point.

They walked around a crypt, and as soon as they were out of her brother's vision, he pressed her against the wall gently, and started down at her with his dark, blue eyes. He eyed her throat, and she quickly looked downward, still not comfortable with him being so near.

He was attractive, and her favourite character, and he was pressed against her. Her heart started thudding wildly in her chest, and she heard him chuckle. She wasn't stupid, she knew that he was aware she liked it, and he pressed his body against her more firmly. "Havin' fun, pet?" he teased, the tips of his fingers sliding down her bare arms, and she shivered.

She stared at the ground and swallowed. "Um, c-can we hurry this up, please?"

He chuckled deeper, then lent down. She tensed up, getting ready for his teeth to tear into her flesh. She remembered the pain from the first time his did it, but still, even though she knew it hurt, she couldn't help but feel a little turned on. His tongue snaked up the side of her neck and she gasped, not expecting that sensation at all.

"Like that, did you?" he murmured, then did it again, before biting down with his blunt teeth.

The pulse between her legs was sudden, and she closed her eyes, barely stopping a moan just in time. "Spike . . . Stop, ju-just bite me and get it over wi--unh," she moaned when he bit her again, and suckled her flesh, right where her scabs were.

"What were you sayin'?" he asked against her flesh.

"Stop flirting and just get this over with, okay?" she snapped angrily.

He grabbed her arms tightly, his fingers biting into her flesh, and she yelped. "Fine," he growled, then she felt his teeth reopen her wounds and she whined, the pain sudden.

He neck throbbed with pain, and he was growling as he drank from her. She clenched her teeth together, whimpering in pain, clutching onto his jacket, starting to feel a little light-headed the longer he drank from her.

Not able to hold back any longer, she let out a scream. "Ow! Stop! Stop it! **FUNKY** stop it! No! Ow! Stop!" she shrieked, trying to push him away, the pain in her neck so intense, and Anne was a bit of a baby when it came to pain.

He leapt away from her, clutching his forehead. "That hurt me prob'ly more'n it hurt you, so shut your--" He cut himself off, staring at her strangely.

She held her neck, feeling her hot blood smear across her palm, and she winced when it stung. "What are you staring at?"

His eyes rolled up in the back of his head, and he passed out.

Her brother rounded the corner. "I'll kick his ass! What did he do? You okay?" He saw Spike on the ground, ran over to him, and kicked him in the side. "Asshole! Hurting my sister! Stupid dick!" He kicked him once more. "Yeah, you stay down, trick!" He then ran over to his sister and grabbed her arms, staring at her, his eyes wide and his brows turned upward. "You okay? I told you it was a stupid idea! Letting him bite you! Dammit, Anne, are you **FUNKY** stupid or what?"

"Um . . . he passed out. Right after he bit me," she revealed, completely ignoring what he'd just said.

Kurt let go of her arms. "You must taste like **POOP."**

Spike groaned, and Anne moved away from her brother since he was blocking her view of him. "Are you okay?" she asked, kneeling beside him, keeping one hand over her wound.

His eyes fluttered open and stared at her face, and it struck her, for about the millionth time, just how attractive he really was. She averted her eyes again.

"Sorry 'bout biting you, luv." He half-sat, resting on his elbows. "You're right--it _is_ your blood." He stood up and so did she, wincing when her neck throbbed. "Somethin' about it made my memory come back. Fully. Made my head hurt for a bit."

Her and Kurt shared a glance. "Right . . . And how much of your memory came back? Like . . . Uh, what's the last thing you remember?" she asked.

"Runnin' towards a helluva lotta demons in an alley while it rained. Why? That the last thing you remember?" he asked, sniffing and wiping the blood off of his mouth.

"Pretty much."

"Hurt my sister again, and I'll kill you," Kurt warned, narrowing his hazel eyes.

Spike nodded once, then turned his head towards Anne. "Sorry 'bout the bite luv."

She shrugged. "It's . . . okay. I asked for it."

Spike shrugged. "Yeah, well, you said it, not me," he muttered.

Anne blinked, and suddenly, found herself in a completely different place. She looked around, realizing she was nowhere near the cemetery. Her, Kurt, and Spike shared a look. Before anyone could say anything, they all heard a noise.

They turned to the direction of the noise, and saw Buffy, who looked confused. "I thought that was gonna take longer," she muttered, then looked between Spike, Anne, and Kurt. "And who the hell are you two?"

"Buffy?" Spike greeted, his face falling slightly.

"Who are they?" she asked, glaring at Anne and Kurt. Anne fidgeted under her gaze.

Spike didn't answer. Instead, he walked right over to Buffy, grabbed her face, and kissed her. Anne couldn't help but grin, and Kurt nodded appreciatively. That was, until Buffy shoved Spike away, and punched him in the nose.

Kurt laughed at that, and Anne winced.

"What the _hell_ was that?" Buffy demanded, her face scrunched up in disgust.

Spike checked his nose for blood as he stared at her. "Uh . . . nothin'. Just trying to shut you up, is all," he muttered, his eyes briefly meeting Anne's.

The look they shared, apparently, did not go unnoticed by Buffy. "What was that? Who is she?" Anne realized she was broader than Buffy, and obviously weighed more as well, although they were the same height. She suddenly felt fat, and folded her arms over her stomach, and wished for the thousandth time she was wearing something that his her legs. She glanced down at the bandana that she tied over the wound Drusilla gave her, not wanting to see the look of disgust on Buffy's face.

"Just . . . Uh, they were bein' attacked. By vampires. So I staked them."

"Uh, and your chip didn't go off? Quit with the lying, Spike."

"I'm not lyin'! The chip doesn't work on dem--" Buffy punched him again.

"Hey! He's tellin' the truth! Damn! Do you have to be such a bitch? He saved us, and what, you're pissed 'cause it takes the attention off you?" Kurt yelled, stomping over to her angrily, as he liked to tower over people when arguing.

Buffy, probably assuming he was trying to attack her, punched him as well, and he fell over, out cold.

"Hey!" Anne yelled, losing her temper and running at Buffy. Anne realized what a stupid move that had been a second before Buffy swung and hit her across the face.

* * *

Willow was furious. How could they? How could they abandon her when she was in so much pain? Year after year they were there for Buffy for every little thing she ever went through. She dated a vampire and moped about it and Willow sat right beside her and patted her shoulder. Her boyfriend went psychotic? Everyone was there, once again. Buffy took off and came back, and everyone told her it was okay for her to be an immature little brat, and everyone comforted her when she got her boyfriend back, and when she got dumped, and even when she had a slutty one night stand and moped over a guy she didn't even know for weeks, everyone nodded and let her whine and told her it was okay.

Willow tries to get drunk and ease the pain for one night, and everyone acts like she raped a puppy. Giles punishes her for being in pain. Everybody judges her and ignores her, even though her boyfriend of two years dumped her.

"You're a demon magnet!" she shouted, when Xander tried to tell her that everything she was feeling would go away in time.

"Hey, now, that's not fair. I'm just trying to help," Xander said, looking a little downfallen.

* * *

"Was that really necessary?" Spike growled, as he carried Kurt in his arms. He had originally grabbed Anne, seeing as he had already carried her twice, but then Buffy commanded them to switch. Kurt weighed more than a hundred pounds than Buffy did, Spike would've guessed him at 230, and it wasn't all fat, either. Spike could feel the muscles in the boy's tall, broad body. He was the same height as Riley, the cardboard ponce, but broader--stronger, even. He could tell the two siblings were related by the curly hair, big eyes, and broad shoulders. Other than that, though, they didn't look much alike. She was curvy and had plump lips, whereas Kurt had thin lips. Anne was chubby, yeah, but she had a vulnerability about her that Kurt didn't have. She was blonde--probably a few shades lighter than Spike's natural hair colour--and Kurt had dark brown hair.

Anne's eyes was already black underneath, and there was a small cut on her cheekbone. Kurt's face was bruised as well, but not nearly as bad as Anne's was.

"Of course it was necessary. They tried to attack me! How was I supposed to know they were both human? There she was, bleeding on her neck, and he ran at me, so--"

"Are you daft? He didn't have his arms raised--he was just yellin'. An' what, you expect her to just sit by and watch as you knocked out her brother? They're humans, luv. I get attackin' the boy, but come on, one look at her and you had to know she'd be out for the count."

"Uh, hello? Didn't you hear me? I thought they were vampires! Besides, they have accents just like you--you obviously know each other."

"Right, 'cause everyone in England corresponds regularly," he muttered sarcastically.

"So the chip really doesn't work on demons?"

"Yup." He stopped in front of Giles' door, then kicked a few times with his foot. "Can help you out on patrol, if you like."

"Yeah, right, that's likely," he murmured as she rolled her eyes. "As soon as we get them in there, we're tying you up. You tried to run off--like I'm trusting you to be out and about."

He frowned. He loved Buffy. They'd had a relationship. He'd given up his life for her, stayed cooped up with her pouf of an ex, all to be stuck in a time back when she hated his guts? After all the hard work of getting her to trust him! Especially after what he tried to do in the bathroom . . .

Everything seemed familiar to him, but it had been years since he'd seen her hair that way, so he couldn't place why it all seemed familiar. He couldn't remember what happened next.

He kicked the door again angrily. He had to go through all that again, just to get her to notice him. Well, sod that. He was gonna do things different the second time around.

"You're lucky I'm not staking you right now for that little lapse into Pervertville awhile ago," she snapped.

He rolled his eyes. He hadn't been thinking when he did that. Then again, that wasn't much of a shock--him, not thinking. "Yeah, well, it was either that or punch you. Had to get you to shut your gob somehow, right?"

"Still gonna kick your ass," she snapped as Giles opened the door.

He blinked at them. "Spike? Buffy? Is that . . . ?" He blinked a few more times, then rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses as he stepped aside, letting them in. "Sorry it took so long. I'm having a hard time seeing my way around at the moment . . ."

Spike grinned. If Giles was having a hard time seeing, that meant one thing: the Will It So spell. Things were turning out fine.

* * *

Willow was furious. She had ranted, raved, and explained everything to Xander, her supposed best friend, and still she was angry. He insisted on making everyone the good guy but her, despite the fact she was the wronged party!

THUD! Something hit the side of the house. "Did you hear that?" Xander asked, standing up off of the bed.

Willow ignored him. "Spike's more important than me--I get it," she muttered as she paced, pursing her lips. Leave it to Xander to makes excuses for Buffy.

Xander hesitated, staring at the wall the thud had sounded from. "Well . . . it's just, he knows all that stuff about the commandoes. And he's harmless. We can't have him taking off right now."

Him sticking up for Buffy, she could understand. But Xander admitting that Spike was more important was just ridiculous! Xander hated Spike! "He's so important, huh? Moreso than me? You really think so?"

"Will, that's not what I--"

"Well fine! Why don't you just marry him!"

* * *

A/N--the Buffy turning into Snape was eyesuhkattspeleeng's idea. Much thanks!

**Next time: Planning a wedding is so much fun! And the FUNK is the scotch?**


	8. How? What? How?

Chapter Seven: How? What? How?

_Previously on Buffy the Vampire Slayer:_

_Spike gently rocked the newborn baby in his arms, staring at her large, blue eyese. He couldn't stop grinning. He looked down at his exhausted wife, Buffy. She smiled at him tiredly. "I know, pet . . . let's name her Spuffy!"_

_FLASH!_

_Anne and Kurt stared at the computer screen in horror. "Billy the Kid? That's ridiculous! And now he has a sister? What the hell?" Kurt exclaimed, slapping a hand to his forehead. "Move aside Anne, I gotta let the bitch know somethin'."_

_FLASH!_

_Spike growled as he pointed his wand at Buffy, who was now Snape. Spike was unaware of teh fact he now had a scar on his forehead. "Kill me then! Kill me like you killed Dawn, you coward!"_

_"DON'T CALL ME . . ." Snape tilted his head, and reverted back into the form of Buffy. "What the hell is going on? You mean . . . Snape killed Dumbledore?"_

_Willow gaped at Buffy, angry apparently at the fact the sixth book was just ruined for her. "YOU BITCH!"_

* * *

Spike waited patiently for Buffy to stare at him moon-eyed. He wondered if he'd be able to feel the difference between his real love for Buffy and the spell working its way into his mind. He thought perhaps the sudden urge to propose would be too strong to deny; but seeing as he was constantly thinking about when he was going to get the chance, he didn't know if the thought would feel different. He loved Buffy. Did a love spell on someone already in love even work?

Buffy would be unable to stop herself from mooning over him. That was when he'd know.

But would it be taking advantage of her? Would it be like rape, all over again? She would be under a spell, and even if he was under it too, he would know beforehand, and that made things all bloody complicated.

Sometimes, he really hated his soul.

Willow suddenly burst into Giles' and Spike stood up. He didn't remember that. She grabbed the stand next to Giles' door that Spike had put his duster on. Willow picked it up violently, flinging his duster to the floor.

"Hey! That's my duster!" he exclaimed.

Xander came in, walking rather slow, seeing as he had a demon strapped to his back. Spike frowned. Poor guy. He really always had such a horrible lot in life. Horrible luck, too. Really a shame. He deserved so much better. He deserved someone to love him.

Spike sighed. "Xander."

Willow hit the back of the demon, and the demon flew away from Xander with impressive speed. Xander looked so damn cute, all sweaty. God, Spike missed the days when they lived together. He had wasted so much energy hating him, forcing himself to hate him, when he could have been staring lustfully at his half-naked body. He was such a funny man, that Xander. Always saw the humorous side of things. Kept them all from going insane. Loyal, too.

Spike saw demons flying through the air towards the house, and Willow slammed the door shut. "For some reason Xander's magnetic! Demons keep flying at him! But, if you hit him, it switches the polarity, and they fly away!"

"Spike," Xander said, his big, brown eyes meeting Spike for the first time since he entered.

"Xander's a demon magnet?" Buffy repeated. "Why isn't Spike all sticking to him them?"

Spike knew something Buffy didn't. He had a soul. More often than not, in the magical sense of the word, a demon only counted if it was soulless.

Buffy. Spike had wasted all that time pining over a woman who would never accept him for what he was; always try to change him. He had seen how loyal Xander could be. God, he loved that man! How could he have been so blind? Xander had been right in front of him the entire time! All the fighting was just sexual tension! Spike had been denying his true feelings--was too uncomfortable being with a man after that horrid experience with Angel--

Xander and Spike started walking towards each other, and Spike could sense the boy's lust, see the adoration in his eyes . . .

"Looks like I spoke too soon," Buffy muttered as Willow hoisted the stand again, ready to smack Spike.

And then their mouth locked in a passionate kiss.

* * *

Anne felt a throbbing pain in her head and a sharp sting in her cheek. For a moment she couldn't remember why, then her memories came flooding back. The insanity that was Halloween, Spike biting her--now her neck throbbed--and Buffy showing up. Kurt trying to argue, and regrettably looking like he was going to deck Buffy, and of course, Anne's stupid instinct to punch the bitch who knocked out her brother taking over.

She slowly sat up, opening her eyes sluggishly and realizing she was in a bed. She pressed a hand to her forehead, willing the room to stop spinning. She rearranged the tie around her neck so it wasn't choking her anymore.

Her brother was sitting with his back against a dresser she didn't recognize. The room didn't even look familiar.

"Where are we?" she asked, touching her eye gingerly.

"Giles's," he answered curtly.

She looked at his pale face. "Something wrong?" She eyed the purplish bruise on his cheek, and the slightly swollen eye and nose that accompanied it.

"No. Just, uh, made the mistake of going out there and seeing something I really didn't want to. Kinda wish I was blind like Giles."

"Oh, we're in _Something Blue_ then?" she asked, getting off of the bed and wincing when her head throbbed a bit more painfully than it had been.

Kurt stood up, a wicked grin on his face. "Yep," he answered, then opened Giles's dresser drawer, and pulled out a watch. He looked at it casually, then slipped it on his wrist. "Best go tell them you're awake."

"You're such a thief, Kurt," she muttered as she went over to the door and opened it.

She walked down the stairs, and when she stepped into the living room, she froze.

Xander and Spike stood in the middle of the living room, snogging passionately, hands groping and clutching and roaming over each other. At first Anne was a little disturbed and shocked, and then she began to get extremely turned on. She had never been a spander shipper, but was suddenly starting to really like the ship.

"Stop that! I can hear the smacking! Oh, god, Willow, what did you do?" Giles demanded, his eyes wide and unseeing.

"Why do you automatically assume I did it? I was minding my own business when a random demon flew through the window and stuck to Xander! So not my fault!"

Anne couldn't take it anymore. She started laughing so hard her knees went weak, and she had to lean against the back of the couch to prevent herself from falling. "He's a demon magnet!" she managed through her rib-hurting chuckles. Tears streamed down her face.

"Who's that?" Willow asked.

"Oh, some girl Spike knows," Buffy said in an offhand way, her expression unchanging as she stared at the snogging couple in disgust.

There was a smacking sound and Spike pulled away. "Don't know her; not really." He turned back to Xander. "I love you, baby," he whispered passionately.

"Not as much as I love you," Xander whispered back, lightly kissed Spike's nose, then they started kissing hungrily again.

Once again, Anne fell victim to laughter.

"Okay, it's a bit much with the laugh track," Buffy spat, finally looking away from the couple to glare at Anne. "I don't see what's so funny about that."

"Xander's a demon magnet! And--and Spike--he's--" Anne was laughing too hard to finish, and she leaned against the couch.

Spike pulled away. "Well, I expect you know why I'm not magnetized to him, right?" Spike said, grinning at her.

Anne couldn't really think at the moment. She knew Spike and Xander were going to want to kill themselves in awhile, so she didn't even register the fact Spike had even spoke.

Spike and Xander resumed making out, and after a few minutes, Anne slowed her laughter, wiping tears from her eyes. She watched Spike and Xander kiss, still grinning like mad. "You gotta admit, it's really sexy," she said.

"Whoa, whoa, not so much with the sexy," Willow muttered, shaking her head.

"So not sexy," Buffy agreed.

There was a beat.

"Okay, it is a bit," Buffy admitted.

"Totally," Willow agreed.

"Please shut up!" Giles shouted.

The door opened violently ."Giles! Xander isn't in his musty basement, and his mother said Willow and Xander left in a hurry, and I assumed . . ." Anya trailed off when she saw Spike and Xander kissing so passionately they didn't seem to realize she was there. "Xander!" she gasped loudly, then charged at him. "Oh, honey! I just knew you'd be up to a threesome eventually!"

Xander pulled away from Spike and looked at Anya. "Um, Ahn, honey . . . I have to tell you something."

"We're getting married, see," Spike said.

"We're in love," Xander added.

"Gay, homosexual love," Spike continued on.

Anya blinked, then very slowly turned to Willow. "What did you do?" she demanded.

"I didn't do any--"

Three demons flew through the door, screaming, then rammed right into Xander's back. The force of them knocked the kissing couple over, so that Xander was on top of his vampire lover.

With a war cry, Willow slammed the door shut, ran over to couple, and hit the piled demons with the stand. All three of them shot upwards and crashed through the ceiling.

"You're replacing that, whatever it was," Giles replied.

With a yell, Kurt fell through the hole and landed on Xander, with a loud 'oomph.' Spike groaned pleasurably, making Anne's centre throb pleasurably at the sound. Willow raised the stand and hit Kurt in the stomach with it.

"What the **FUNK** was that for?" Kurt demanded, rolling off of Xander and holding his gut. When he stood, running his hand though his dishevelled hair and across his makeshift bandana, he saw just what he had landed on. "What the hell? Oh, man!"

"Who are you?" Willow asked.

"Who are they?" Anya demanded, pointing between the two of them.

"Is that Giles's watch?" Buffy inquired.

"Who has my watch? What?"

Spike and Xander let out a mutual moan.

"I'm Kurt," he introduced, looking Willow over with a flirtatious grin. He then looked at Anya, and grinned even wider.

"I'm Anne."

"This is my watch," Kurt lied.

"Spike knows them," Buffy explained, trying her hardest not to look at the passionate embrace of Spike and Xander. Kurt was doing very much the same thing, and instead looking between Willow and Anya with a huge grin on his face. Anne was, of course, staring right where everyone refused to stare.

"Do not," Spike managed between his heated kisses with his fiancé.

"Willow! Fix this!" Anya pleaded, running over to Willow and grabbing her arm.

Willow tugged her arm free. "Why does everyone just assume--"

"Willow, you told me earlier that you tried to do a Will It So spell. Please, try to pay attention, and stop this madness!" Giles shouted.

"Oh my God! You put a spell on my Xander?" Anya asked, affronted, then pulled away from her in disgust. "How could you? You're his best friend!"

"Okay, so didn't mean for this to happen!" Willow shouted, just as another thud shook the house, and the door creaked under the weight.

"It's not a spell!" Xander proclaimed, standing up and helping his lover to his feet. "Willow, how can you say that? You're my best friend! And Anya--you're just jealous because I've found my true love!"

"Oh, God, is he serious? Dude, you're under a spell. You gotta know that," Kurt told them with a slight eye-roll.

"You're just homophobic," Spike snapped, wrapping his arm around Xander's shoulder.

Willow smacked her forehead. "Oh, my god, I've really screwed this up, haven't I? I said he was a demon magnet! I forgot about the spell!"

Buffy stood up from the dining room chair she was sitting in. "Willow, how can you forget your spell when, hello, you're watching it happen before your very eyes? What, it didn't occur to you that you might have called Xander a demon magnet?"

"Okay, let's see how good your memory is when demons start flying at your best friend and he starts making out with a guy!"

"Hey!" Spike shouted. "I didn't expect this sort of behaviour from you, Red! What, after all, you're a sodding lesbian!"

"I'm a lesbian," she deadpanned with an eye-roll. "Yeah, and me and Anya are in love, too."

"Oh my God I'm in heaven," Kurt proclaimed, eyes suddenly wide with desire.

Anne slapped her forehead. "Bloody hell," she murmured.

Anya and Willow looked at each other, then started attacking each other's mouths hungrily, moaning and gasping avidly.

"Thank God I'm blind," Giles murmured, leaning his head back against the couch, and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"This is your fault!" Buffy shouted, pointing at Anne and Kurt randomly. "Everything was totally fine until you randomly showed up!"

"Huh, what? No, Willow did the spell!" Anne reminded, pointing at the red-head. "It's just a My Will Be Done spell! What she says comes true!"

"Thank the dear an' fluffy Lord," Kurt muttered under his breath, still staring avidly at the two girls moaning and grinding against one another.

"The reversal spell should be quite simple," Giles pointed out.

"Are you all daft? There is no spell!" Spike shouted. "Come on, Xand, let's get outta here. Can't stand these close-minded bigots much longer. Got a crypt with a view where we can scream as loud as we want, and no one 'round can judge us."

"Well, how do you know so much then? You knew about the spell! You're not as innocent as you seem, missy!" Buffy shouted, storming over to Anne with her hands on her hips. "This is getting way too chaotic here! Someone has to fix it!"

"Okay, yeah, well, that's fantastic! So whip out the spell books then! I swear to God, it was all Willow's doing!" She glanced at the door just as Spike flung it open. "Wait, Spike! No! Remember? The demons are--"

Spike let out a shriek as did Xander, who was ploughed down by demons. Anne, having been dog-piled more than enough times in the past few hours, felt sympathetic. "Help!" Xander and Spike muffled under the pile.

Anne ran over to the stand, which Willow had put back on the ground so she could snog Anya. She picked it up and smacked demon after demon, watching them fling out the door, yelping. When the last one flew out, she slammed it shut. "There will be no leaving this house, understand?" she ordered, glaring at everyone as she held onto the stand as if it were a weapon.

"What's with all the smacking?" Kurt asked.

"It reverses the polarity," she muttered quickly.

"You sound like the Doctor," he noted.

"Oh, how I miss that show," Giles commented.

"You too, huh?" Spike asked, looping his fingers through Xander's, who was hanging on his arm and staring adoringly at his face. "Went by the name for a bit. I was selling these eggs and--" He shut up instantly, and shared a look with Anne, who smirked at him. "Well, never mind. Hope you don't mind, Rupes, but the boy an' I are gonna need your room for a bit."

Giles stood quickly. "Like ruddy hell you ar--" His shin smacked the coffee table and he yelped a bit. "You will not soil my sheets!"

"Besides, there's a hole in the ceiling," Anya pointed out reasonably, breaking away from Willow long enough to talk. Willow was playing with Anya's hair. "The floor will obviously be weakened. If you fell, you both could sustain horrible injuries."

"There's a hole in my ceiling?" Giles fell back onto the couch, a hand to his forehead. "Scotch. I need scotch."

Kurt tore his eyes from Willow and Anya. "You've got scotch? Hell yeah! Where do you keep it?"

"Okay, have we all ignored the pressing issue of _insanity?"_ Buffy exclaimed. "Demons are flying to Xander, except Spike who's got it in his head he can suddenly love now, and now they're getting married, and then Willow and Anya, who, let's face it, get along about as well and Spike and Xander, and they're all with the kissing, and the groping, and Giles is blind, and you're wondering about _scotch?_ Am I the only one sane here?"

Spike turned a reproachful glare to the slayer. "There you are, goin' on again like I can't love--tell me, pet, what makes you such a bloody expert on that? You know, I did everything you ever asked, every--sodding--thing--and you used me, an' I let you, and you just can't get over yourself long enough to even _think_ about others, can you? Well I'll have you know I can love a hell of a lot more than you can, what with your dried up cold heart!" he shouted.

"Excuse me? Everything I ever asked? Spike, you can't even stay out of Sunnydale! And what do you know about my heart?"

Spike faltered for a moment, then looked at Anne, as if for help. She shrugged. Finally, he let go of Xander, who pouted, and strode past Willow and Anya, who were making out again. "Enough to know you couldn't keep Angel strapped to your side. Enough to know that you couldn't keep Parker interested longer'n a few hours. Tell me pet, just what did it take to get your legs spread? What were you expecting?"

Buffy smacked him.

"Don't touch my fiancé!" Xander yelled.

"Most slayers do turn cold-hearted," Anya pointed out between her kisses.

"Okay, guys, maybe you should back off," Anne said, feeling a twinge of sympathy at the situation. "We're all just a little surprised at--um--the whole, uh, you all being gay thing. We're just . . . stunned. I'm totally open to it. I'm really happy for you all." She looked at Spike. "Maybe she's jealous. Did you think about that?"

Spike nodded. "Yeah. You're right, Anne. Bint's just jealous." He smirked at Buffy, grabbed Xander's arm, and jerked him close.

"Are we still getting the scotch?" Giles asked.

Kurt nodded. "Right. On my way. In the freezer?"

"Yes, please," Giles muttered.

"Don't worry, Buffy, you're not cold-hearted," Anne said, patting her shoulder with the hand that wasn't clutching the stand.

Buffy looked at Anne, then nodded solemnly. "Okay. Just . . . fix it." She headed towards the door.

"Uh, Buffy?" Anne called. Buffy looked at her. "Demons. Magnet."

She sighed, went back to the chair, and slumped in it.

Anne closed her eyes, trying to remember the episode. She thought for a moment. "What rhymes with 'again?'" she asked aloud.

"Sin," Spike said huskily, kissing Xander passionately on the mouth.

"Bin?" Kurt suggested, taking a long swig of the scotch before closing the freezer.

Giles sighed. "Gin."

"Begin!" Anne said, snapping her fingers with that.

"Good one," Spike muttered. "Never woulda thought o' that. Bloody hell."

Xander licked Spike's bottom lip. "I liked yours better."

"Let the healing power begin," Anne intoned, looking around the chaotic living room. "Let my--dammit. Let the healing power being. Let _her_ will be safe again. As these . . . magic words are spoken, let this harmful spell be broken!"

There was a beat.

"You're bloody stupid," Spike muttered, then kissed Xander fully on the mouth, and pressed his palm to the front of the taller man's jeans.

"God, Spike, get a room!" Kurt shouted in disgust, handing Giles the scotch.

"I screwed it up. Kurt, do you remember the spell?" she asked.

"Right, 'cause I **FUNKY** love the episode," he muttered with an eye-roll.

"What are you two talking about?" Giles asked before knocking back another swig.

"Uh . . . Spells. She's into them," Kurt muttered quickly.

Anne closed her eyes, thinking hard. She watched the episode enough--she should have known it. She pinched the bridge of her nose, blocking out the sounds of all the snogging. Her head snapped up. "Okay! Okay. Let the healing power begin. Let Willow's will be safe again. As these words of peace are spoken, let this harmful spell be broken!"

They kept making out.

Until a second later, and Spike and Xander leapt from each other, and Willow did the same. Anya blinked a few times, then shrugged. When Buffy looked at Anya with her eyebrow raised, Anya blinked. "What? I'm over a thousand years old--you think I've never done stuff with a girl before? Halfrek and I went steady for quite awhile before--"

"I can see!" Giles shouted, jumping up. He looked at the ceiling. "God, I wish I were blind again."

"No! Oh my God no! No!" Xander screamed shrilly, then ran over to Anya, grabbed her, and kissed her immediately. "You. Me. Bathroom. Now."

"Okay," she muttered, smiling, as she plundered his mouth with her tongue. The two of them ran off towards the bathroom.

Spike was blinking stupidly. "Oh God. I'm gonna be ill." He walked over to the table and leaned against it, dry-heaving slightly. "The Whelp. I kissed the Whelp. Oh God."

"So say us all," Buffy muttered.

Willow was fidgeting and laughing nervously. "Okay, so we don't ever have to mention this again right? And--and I can fix Giles's roof--only, you know, without magic, 'cause--'cause I'm taking a break--and the kissing with the Anya and--and oh my Goddess, I kissed Xander's girlfriend!"

"Did you like it?" Kurt asked.

Willow furrowed her eyebrows at him, as if disgusted.

Spike calmly walked over to Buffy, grabbed her arms, hoisted her out of the chair, and kissed her. Buffy, once again, shoved him away, and punched him in the face. "Whoa, buddy! Watch the tongue!"

"Gotta get Xander-taste outta my mouth," he muttered, and Anne caught the flash of hurt in his eyes.

"This is as bad as that time I was a hooker! I kissed Spike then too! And that weird fat kid! Oh my God! I'm a slut! Buffy, I got all slutty! Can't I not be a slut? Why do I always have to be all scary sexual when spells go wrong?"

"You are getting tied up, Mister." Buffy glared furiously at Spike.

"Bathroom's taken."

"Of course, nobody cares about the gaping hole in my home," Giles muttered, probably to himself.

Anne looked at him to apologize, then saw Kurt shrug. "Sup, I took a carpentry class an' stuff. I can build it for you."

"I'll help," Buffy said, and Anne noticed how her eyes watered. Kurt shrugged, then followed Buffy down the hall. "All the tools are just over . . ." Anne heard Buffy murmur as they walked down the hall.

Willow was already in the kitchen, looking through cupboards. "Oh my Goddess. Cookies. Need cookies. Ugh! Anya! Girl kissage!"

Anne looked at Spike as he sat down in the comfy chair, his face taut. He was clenching his hands into fists.

"Yes. More scotch would be lovely," Giles muttered, then took a longer drink than needed.

Anne went over to Spike, and knelt beside the chair, making sure her skirt covered everything. "You okay?" she whispered.

"It's just . . . Buffy. I waited so bloody long to get her to trust me, an' I've gotta do it again, an' what do I go an' do? Call her a cold-hearted bitch."

She patted his arm, not really knowing what else to do. "You didn't mean it, Spike," she soothed.

"No, pet. I did."

* * *

A/N--this is my absolute favourite chapter so far. Just thought I should mention that. Also, don't be afraid to review! I won't bite. [raises eyebrow] Hard.

**Next time: What cliche are they in now? And what's with the roses?**


	9. Moving Along

Chapter Eight: Moving Along

_Previously on Parody the Fanfic Genre:_

_**Next time: What cliche are they in now? And what's with the roses? **the author typed, not realizing that she had completely forgotten the chapter she is now uploading, so what she should have written was **Next time: the author loses track of chapters, and Spike takes Anne out for a bit of 'fun.'**_

_FLASH!_

_"Dammit, where is my cell phone?" Anne asked before they left to go to the store with Susan the Raven-Sue Creator. _

_Kurt laughed. "Where the hell you gonna put it, trick? Up your ass? That thing ain't got pockets, and it ain't gonna fit in your virginal pu--"_

_FLASH!_

_"See," Spike began as he looked at his young daughter, Spuffy, and his other saughter, Spru, "when a man and a woman--or a woman or a woman--or two men--or well a group o' kinky people who wanna have an insanely good night--or sometimes, hell, even complete sodding strangers--have a special, er . . . connection, or love each other, or just in the sodding mood for it I guess . . . or maybe they're three sheets to the wind, an' they were just dumped by a chit they'd been with for a century for a disgusting Chaos demon and this big tittied bint shows up and she's whinin' about how bein' dead sucks . . ." Off of his daughters' completely bemused stares, Spike blinked a few times. "Right, maybe you two should talk to your mums about this . . ."_

_And onto the chapter!_

* * *

Anne stared at Spike. "Look . . . What happened in season sex--_six,"_ she corrected, ignoring the weird look he gave her. "You can prevent it, or--or you know, make it better."

"What's season six, luv?"

"Um . . . You know, with Buffy coming back from heaven, and the whole crazy sex-fest you guys had. Began with you baby-sitting Dawn and the Scoobies bringing her back, and it ended when you got your soul."

"So . . . You saw me try an' . . . uh, in the bathroom," he muttered, turning his head away so he wasn't looking at her anymore.

Anne nodded, then shifted uncomfortably, and once against wished she was wearing something less revealing, but not because she worried about her appearance. Right after that episode, she had deleted all of her Spike pictures and fanfics. She realized it was an overreaction to what a fictional character did, but seeing as she hadn't had a perfect childhood, the situation had hit a little too close to home. She remembered Raven the Sue performing Occlumency on her and seeing the memory, and her fist clenched.

"I've got a soul now," he muttered calmly, changing the subject. "Imagine your blood brought me all the way back."

She nodded, looking over his emaciated frame. She'd forgotten how weak he'd looked in the episode they'd appeared in, before he'd been properly fed. Still, the red shirt looked great on him. "Sometimes weird stuff happens like that. One minute, things will be nearly normal, and the next, everyone's acting out of character."

"Can't believe I snogged Xander," he growled, then closed his eyes.

She playfully punched his arm. "Least it wasn't Angel," she offered optimistically.

He turned to her, and their eyes locked. He smiled and chuckled, and she quickly averted her eyes. Her heart skipped a beat. "Let's get outta here. Don't really feature waitin' around here," he said, getting out of the chair, then offering her a hand.

She took it and stood, brushing off her clothes. "What about the random portals? I can't leave Kurt here."

"I think you two are linked. You guys weren't ever touchin' before. Doubt there's a vicinity law or what-all, otherwise all the Scoobs woulda joined last time 'round. I've got your blood in me at the mo'. We're linked too. Cor. Mate. Bloody. Sod." He shook his head. "Least that's gone down a bit, yeah?"

"I guess." She looked at Giles, who was sipping the alcohol straight out of the tumbler. "We're going out."

"Yes, yes, fine," he grumbled.

"Tell my brother that if he asks," she told him, then headed for the door.

Spike rushed there purposely, then opened it for her. She smiled briefly at him, then left, stepping into the cool, night air.

"Sorry 'bout bitin' you, pet. Shouldn't have been rough. Was tryin' to make it sensual, so my chip wouldn't activate, but you didn't like that much." He rubbed the back of his head. "You get anxious when everyone flirts with you, or just me?"

"Dunno. Doesn't happen much," she admitted with a shrug. "I'm kinda the one who does the flirting, but I don't know what I'd do if someone flirted back. Well, I mean, there was that weird thing with Snape, but . . ." She shook her head. "Okay, my life is really, really weird."

"Even by Sunnydale standards," he admitted. "So . . . that Shanshu thing, did Angel . . . ? And did we make it?"

She hadn't read the comics, but she'd heard about them over the internet. Spike certainly hadn't turned human, and Gunn was a vampire. That was all she knew.

She lied.

"Yeah, I don't know. Show pretty much ended when Angel said he wanted to fight the dragon." She rubbed her bare arms, feeling a bit chilly, compared the warmth of Giles' house. Either that, or it was a nervous gesture. "How bad is my face? She hit me pretty hard. Well, duh, slayer. And you saw how weak I am. Carrying me around all the time. Uck."

"Honest? You look like hell."

She nodded. "Yup. I have a thing for blunt and snarky."

He chuckled. "Right. Well, where to, luv? Need to get outta there 'fore I go insane." He shuddered. "Memories of Xander. Not pleasant."

She rubbed her arm, thinking for a moment. "Well, I don't want people thinking you abuse me, so . . . Uh . . . I'm not native here, you know. What do you wanna do?"

"Well, to be honest, I'm in the mood to bash a few heads in. Start runnin' towards a grand, epic fight--complete with a bloody dragon--and not a damn punch. Angel wanted to get the dragon, but hell, I'd've liked to take a swing or two at that thing."

"Your inner William must've been geekin' out over the thing," Anne stated, understanding the literary implication of fighting a dragon, and why Spike would've wanted to get in a few good hits. "After all, the prince always has to fight a dragon before he gets the princess and . . . Wow, I just barely got why that would be a big thing for you and Angel."

Far off in the distance, they heard; "Hulk smash!"

Spike blinked at the noise, then turned back to Anne, as if nothing had been said. "So . . . Do you know who fought the--"

"Not a clue," she lied quickly. "But, I think you're overlooking a problem with the whole patrolling thing. See me? Weak as hell. I've never been in a fight. Ever. So . . . Yeah."

"I wouldn't worry about that, luv." She looked at him suspiciously as he appraised her, his eyes trailing over her body. He made no attempts to hide the fact he was checking her out, eyes lingering on her breasts a second longer than anywhere else. His blue eyes met hers as he grinned. "I can think of a way to keep you . . . occupied."

* * *

"You did _what!?"_ Kurt demanded, storming over to Spike and towering over him. Anne flinched--what was it with Kurt's obsession with towering over people when arguing? She figured that when people were tall, it was just what they did. Some sort of power thing. Personally, she didn't mind it so much--she had lived with him for years, after all, and seeing as she was as short as Buffy, people tended to be taller than her, and she'd gotten used to it.

Spike gave him a gentle shove. "Oh, sod off. We had a gay ol' time of it," he muttered, then furrowed his brows. "Well, not a _gay_ ol' . . . bloody hell. Stupid spells."

Anne sighed. "You're overreacting," she stated plainly, completely ignoring Ironman, who crashed through the window, landed on the floor in a heap, then flew out of the window again.

Kurt shoved Spike a lot harder than Spike shoved him, ignoring her completely. "I could seriously tear your **FUNKY** head off you **FUNKY** tricked out **FUNKY MUSIC!"**

Xander walked out of the hallway and into the main room, adjusting his shirt. "We're talking about music why now?"

"Oh, this wanker is all in a snit 'cause I showed his sis a good time, is all," Spike muttered with an eye-roll.

Xander looked at Anne, and she sighed and rolled her eyes, looking back at her brother. "Really, it wasn't even that bad. I was totally safe."

"You used condoms? Vampires don't need to," Anya stated.

"What? No, dude, I'm a virgin," Anne responded, realizing just then that to someone walking into the argument at that moment would have gotten the wrong idea, as Anya clearly had.

"Spike used my sister as bait 'cause he wanted to patrol! That bitch don't know how to fight! She coulda died! Bastard!"

Xander nodded. "Where I agree with you on the fact Spike is a bastard--a total, complete bastard that deserves much, much floggin--ah! I didn't mean--I meant, uh, deserves much beating--not off! I meant, deserves to get _dusted,_ I'm a little lost on the 'out to patrol' bit. He has a chip."

"Doesn't work on demons, nitwit," Spike said with a glare at Xander. "Would you mind getting outta here? Don't you have a musty basement to go to?"

Xander looked like he was going to argue, but then he furrowed his brows. "Actually, that's a very good idea. The sooner I'm nowhere near you, at all, the better. Oh, and have your ring back." Xander took the ring off of his finger, and tossed it at Spike.

Spike caught it deftly with his left hand and sneered. "Didn't look good on you, anyway."

"Please, skulls? Who goes around buying skull rings and keeping them in their duster pocket? Why'd you even have that--or was it put there because of the spell? And why am I still pondering anything to do with that spell? God, Anya, let's go," Xander muttered, leaving Giles' house quickly.

Actually, Xander did have a few valid points. "Why did you have that ring?" Anne asked, her brows furrowed.

"Thought it was neat, bought it for Dru. Turns out, she likes diamonds."

"I think it's pretty fu--rickin' cool," she said with a shrug.

Spike looked at her, his eyebrows raised a bit. "You can have it, if you like."

"Really?" Her face lit up with a genuine smile. He tossed it at her. She tried to catch it, but failed, so she picked it up off of the floor and put it on her ring finger. "Awesome! Thanks, Spike!" She stuck her hand out and admired it. She had always thought skull rings were pretty cool, but she had never bought one for herself. She had skull knick-knacks and dragons and gargoyles in her room. She liked that sort of thing.

"Easy chit to please," he muttered before turning back to her brother to continue the argument.

"If you know what to get her," Kurt offered gently. "I mean, had it been diamonds, it woulda been the whole 'oh, thanks' fake smile while she wore it for a day or two then took it off 'cause she didn't really like it, but she likes that sorta . . . Wait, I'm still mad at you for using my sister as bait!"

"Kurt, I'm a damn good fighter. I was in complete control of the situation. Look at her--small li'l morsel, looks as vulnerable as kitten, not to mention the outfit--that's a plus--trust me, any demon would want to have a taste. Hell, I would too, if not for the so . . ." He looked around the room. "Buffy here? Giles?"

"Giles went up to the bed. The floor isn't fixed all the way yet, but enough for him to sleep in his bed without him worrying about the floor weakening. We put plastic bags over the ceiling hole so it wouldn't be cold. Buffy went home afterward with Willow. Yeah, and Xander and Anya just left so, no one will hear you."

"Well, if not for the soul, I woulda ripped into her throat. In fact, I _did._ Perfect bait, and I didn't let a single thing touch her. I'm sure she enjoyed herself, watchin' me fight."

"You do look pretty awesome," she admitted, still looking at the skull ring.

"Well, trick," Kurt said, brushing past Spike, forgetting their little argument, "unlike you, I worked. Buffy and I fixed up the ceiling, so I'm tired. I'm gettin' the couch--you and Spike can have the floor. Nearly daybreak, so . . . Or, y'know, you could chain him up in the tub. Whatever."

"I will _not_ set foot in that tub," Spike said incredulously. "And anyway, mate, who says you get the couch?"

"I worked on the ceiling for hours while you went out and had fun. Plus, I'm taller, so my legs need more room."

"And look at all the spacious room you'd get on the floor," Spike said, sweeping an arm to gesture at the floor beneath his feet.

"I always get the couch!" Kurt whined.

"What, an' you never let the lady get it? Rude git, you are," Spike snapped, but playfully.

"Oh, what, and like you were gettin' all bloody William on us an' gonna let her have it? Please, Spike," Kurt responded. "You sleep on sarcophaguses. I get dibs on the couch, trick. End of story." He plopped down on the couch, his hands behind his head. "Now get me some blankets. Like I know where they are. You do. You lived here, right?"

Spike rolled his eyes and started walking off, Anne following him. When they were out of earshot, Spike said; "He always boss you around like this?"

"I boss him around too. Sometimes, I'll be like 'hey, dick, make me an egg sandwich' and he does. He's just showing off, acting all tough 'cause you're around. We actually take turns when sleeping on couches, you know."

"Do me a favour though, luv," he muttered as he yanked open a closet that had pillows and blankets. "Next time, make sure _I_ get the couch."

"You just have to call dibs on it, Spike," she said with an eye-roll. "It's not difficult. But anyway, later on, I'm gonna have to find some different clothes. No way in hell am I going to keep wearing this for God knows how long, so . . ."

"We'll figure all that out tomorrow, luv," he said, piling blankets and pillows in his arms.

Just then, Spiderman charged out of the bathroom, shot a few webs at Doc Oc, who chased the superhero out of the house.

Anne and Spike looked at each other, then shrugged.

* * *

Anne awoke for no reason it seemed, and it took her a second to figure out why. Her stomach was growling, and she realized she was hungry. She couldn't even remember the last time she ate. She sat up, pressing a hand to her stomach, willing for the grumbling to go down, and looked around the room. She looked at the clock--it was noon, apparently.

She blinked the blurriness out of her eyes and contemplated falling back asleep, then her stomach protested louder. She felt a strong arm wrap around her waist when she moved to leave and looked down. She remembered Spike being at least three feet away from her when they'd made up their separate beds on the floor. When she looked around her surrounding a bit more, she realized that they had both moved closer to each other in their sleep. She shrugged, then pushed his arm off of her waist, noticing his face scrunch up when she did so.

Kurt was breathing heavily on the couch, dead to the world, apparently.

She wondered if Giles was up yet, then remembered he had had quite a bit of scotch the night before. Still, he seemed to be an early riser, booze or not.

She made herself a bowl of cereal and ate, finally getting rid of the belly rumblings.

She heard rustling, and saw Spike moving around on the floor, jerking his blankets around as he did so. She figured he was about to wake up. However, when he sat up suddenly and gestured wildly with his arms, before looking around the floor and patting the area she'd been sleeping in, Anne fought back a snigger. He stood up and turned around, eyes wide with what she assumed was residual fear from a dream he had.

It wasn't until she realized he was still looking at her if something incredibly horrible had happened that she wondered if perhaps it hadn't been a dream.

He started strolling over to her and she got off the chair she'd been sitting in. She meant to ask; "What's wrong?" However, absolutely nothing came out.

He was mouthing frantically, too quickly for her to read his lips, and she tried to tell him to slow down, but still, she remained silent. She grabbed his arms and gave him a tiny shake, hoping that would get him to shut up. Or at least, metaphorically shut up.

Their eyes locked, and she quickly looked down and took a step back. After a second of her looking at the ground, she looked back at his face, but prevented eye contact. He just tilted his head at her.

She let out a long sigh, and thought. She looked at him, gave him the largest, toothiest grin she could muster, and clapped quietly, trying to impersonate The Gentlemen.

He pointed at his Adam's apple, blinked slowly at her a few times, and mouthed an obvious _Duh._

She nodded, realizing that obviously he had realized what was going on. He had lived it after all.

The door burst open randomly and Xander came running in, gasping for air. Anya was following. He looked at Spike, walked over to him, and made a fist before pumping it up and down (in other words, it looked like he was miming wanking off), then pointed at Spike.

Spike's eyes widened as his upper lip curled in disgust. He looked downward, at his own manhood, then back at Xander. He repeated the hand-job-like gesture, then pointed at himself, his face scrunching up in more confusion and disgust.

Xander blinked once, then visibly paled. He shook his head vigorously, then mimed staking Spike in the chest, then mouthed _You did this!_

Spike shook his head, showed him his first two fingers, and walked over to the couch before plopping on it.

Xander looked at Anne with confusion, his eyes settling on her hair. She blanched, and her hand went up to her curly, frazzled mess. She hid her face in her hands.

When she looked back up at Xander, he pointed over his shoulder at the stairs. _Giles?_ he mouthed.

She shrugged, but Anya grabbed Xander's shoulder and started leading him to the stairs.

Anne sighed, then pressed a hand to her forehead. She listened to the quiet for a minute, then jumped when loud talking erupted from nowhere. She tried to say Spike's name, but nothing came out. She turned towards the sound of the noise and saw that Spike had turned on the television, which he had dug out from underneath a pile of papers and folders, and was kneeling in front of it with his elbows resting on his knees.

There were several loud knocks on the door--frantic knocking, she realized. Someone was pounding on the door. Her and Spike glanced at each other. He pointed out the window, at the rising sun, vamped out, pointed at his face, then shook his head before slipping into his human features.

She smiled widely, trying to look like the creepy villains of that particular episode, and clapped gently, before pointing a thumb at the door.

Again, he pointed at the sky, and shrugged once, before turning back to the TV and turning it up.

She realized he had a point. The Gentlemen didn't exactly stroll around during the day.

She jogged over to the door, the knocking sounds still insistent. She yanked open the door, realizing that the knocking sounds had stopped just a second before her hand rested on the doorknob, and hoped that she wasn't too late.

There was nobody out there. Frowning, she stepped outside, looking first left and then when she looked right, she screamed. But of course, it was silent.

Raven, grinning madly, grabbed Anne's throat and lifted her a foot off the ground. She lifted her left hand and wiggled her finger, and Anne noticed the sparkling bauble on her ring finger immediately.

The Gem of Amara.

* * *

A/N--Sorry about the long update. I'm sure you all have "Real Life" as well, and will be able to understand when I say it spiralled out of control. If you don't understand, consider yourself lucky.

**Next time (for real): What cliche are they in now? And what's with the roses?**


	10. Frumpy

_Previously, on Does Anybody Read This?:_

_Topher stood above the serenely staring Echo. She, pleasantly bemused, looked at him and said; "Did I fall asleep?"_

_Topher nodded. "For a little while."_

_Echo tilted her head. "I really think this is the wrong fanfic, Ashes Falling."_

_The author stopped chugging cough syrup and taking cold medicine long enough to flip Echo off and exit the document._

_FLASH!_

_Snape paced in his classroom, his long black cloak billowing menacingly as he did so. He looked pointedly at the author and said; "Yeah, this is still the wrong fanfic."_

_Ashes Falling rolled her eyes and flipped him off too._

_FLASH!_

_Spike and Snape were rolling around in slick baby oil, only in their underpants. The wrestling around looked extremely arousing, seeing as they were practically dry humping each other._

_Snape sighed and lifted an eyebrow. "Sadly, this is the _right_ fanfic."_

_Spike shrugged. "I hope the readers don't mind waiting to get the full chapter," he muttered, trying to keep Snape still._

_Snape flipped Spike onto the bottom. "You mean this is actually in the story?"_

_Ashes Falling lifted a video camera. "You really should learn about the libido of a fangirl. Now start with the snogging."_

_FADE TO BLACK_

Chapter Nine: Frumpy

_Anne_

You know, you'd think that fear of dying in an alternate dimension would have found its way into my brain at some point. Seeing as the last time we'd taken a little trip to another 'verse, my brother had gotten himself killed. The fact that I was not only thrust into a dimension where demons and vampires existed, but practically gift-wrapped and shoved into the hands of Scooby Gang--a group of people who faced death everyday--should have, I don't know, smacked some sense into me and made me realize dying was seriously a real scenario.

But the odd thing is, being in another dimension doesn't exactly feel real. It feels a bit like a dream. A hazy, completely awesome dream. A fantasy, really. Even though you know how dangerous it is, you're totally geeking out over the fact you are _in the Buffyverse._

I would admit that I quietly geeked out in my head. I had geeked out in the Potterverse too. Did I say it out loud? No. Just in the same way that if I happened across James Marsters in the mall, I wouldn't confidently stride up to him and tell him he was practically the hottest man in existence. People just didn't do that. Besides, it seemed so . . . Sue-ish to geek out over the situation. And just not appropriate.

However, having a Mary Sue wrap her hand around my throat, lift me a foot of the ground, and squeeze, well, that was certainly making my life flash before my eyes. I had no idea how she managed that with a chip in her head, but she did. And weirdly? I still managed to catch that little flaw even with her hand squeezing my life out of me.

What about my parents? My sister? My best friend? Kurt? Bloody hell. I was going to die in another dimension. What the hell? How stupid was that?

I kicked out at her, trying to get her in the shin, but to no avail. Although there was no sound, obviously, she was laughing, her mouth wide and cheeks a bright red. Then, from out of nowhere, I remembered a move my brother taught me. I slammed my elbow against the crook of her arm and she winced, dropping me to my feet. I bolted for the door, that stupid, ridiculous tie swaying, and she grabbed me. She had somehow looped her arms through mine and pulled them back ,so they were pinned against my sides, and sort of jamming her in the stomach.

My first thought was: _What a stupid bitch, leaving my mouth free. If she were smart, she would've clamped a hand over it._

Then I remembered nobody could talk.

She was enjoying it--me knowing that Spike was just a few yards away, kneeling in front of the telly, and that Xander, Anya, and probably Giles were just upstairs, and my brother was asleep on the couch, and they would have no idea.

What a voyeuristic sadist.

She started dragging me away, and tears started streaming down my face. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest it was almost painful, and my skin was crawling. Oh, my God. She was going to kill me. She was actually going to kill me. She was going to tear into my throat, and I could do nothing to prevent it, because I was stupid, weak little girl, and why couldn't I have been stronger? More athletic? Not some pathetic waste, some stupid stereotypical girl who needed the stereotypical male hero and why was I suddenly all feminist?

Why did it matter? She was just going to kill me.

And I couldn't even scream.

Wait, why was she dragging me away? Wouldn't she have just deposited me there if she wanted to kill me? Huh. So she either needed me for something, or it was an interesting bout of torture I'd rather not look forward too.

Sod that.

Once again, a random piece of knowledge my brother taught me flitted through my brain. I swung my head back and it connected with her face. She made a hissing noise and I bolted for the door, but she grabbed my arm and pulled me towards her again, wrapping her arms around my abdomen. I shrieked--silently, of course--and elbowed her in the ribs, staring at the wide-open door, adrenaline pumping through my veins.

Fight or flight, right? Whatever. I didn't care, but no way in hell was I letting her drag me away and do God knows what. I was thrashing, jerking, screaming pointlessly, tears of fear streaming down my face.

Of course, she was far stronger than me, so other than the slight hiss from when I elbowed her, there wasn't any real reaction and she started hoisting me away.

Spike's head popped up--the couch had been hiding him--and his eyes widened. He charged at the door and managed a few feet outwards, but when he started smoking he realized there was no way in hell he was going to make it to me in time, and he turned around, and ran back into the house.

I muttered a colourful swear word, but obviously, nobody heard it.

* * *

Spike charged towards Kurt, the closest person, and started shaking the living hell out of him. When that didn't work, he backhanded the boy. Pain ricocheted throughout his skull and Spike silently yelled out in pain. It surprised him, then he realized all Anne's blood had done was give him memories and a soul--he was still in his old, chipped body.

Of course, Kurt's first instinct to being backhanded was to deck Spike.

He fell on his ass because of the position he'd been in, and stared up at the angry boy obviously yelling a few choice words at him, but no sound came out. Kurt furrowed his brows, held his throat, then tried again, but no sound came out. Spike watched realization dawn on his features, but didn't care. He stood up, grabbed his arm, and dragged him to the door, grabbing a blanket along the way. As he put the blanket over his head, he pointed at Anne, who was being forcefully dragged away by Raven.

Both of them pelted after them. Kurt, seeing as he hadn't been covered by a blanket and had more freedom to move, got there first and yanked Anne out of Ravens' grasp. Spike tackled the vampire he'd known his entire unlife, his best friend from his human years, then hissed when he felt the sun hit some bared skin. He was grabbing for the ring on her finger, but she kept knocking his hand away, until eventually she slammed her palm against his chest hard enough to make him fly backwards and slam into Anne and Kurt. The blanket was no longer on him, and actually a few feet away. He felt the sun start to burn him and he let out an inaudible scream.

Raven's face paled and she shot out her hand, an obvious _No!_ on her lips.

A white light surrounded him, blinding, as he felt his skin burst into flame.

* * *

_Anne_

I would be lying if I said I was surprised at the fact I was on the bottom, yet again. What did surprise me was the high-pitched yell of fear coming from Spike.

"Dammit, Spike, would ya shut up already? **FUNK."** That was obviously Kurt.

Spike stopped screaming. "Hey, I'm not on fire."

"So . . . get off?" I suggested a little snippily, my heart still thundering in my chest from almost being killed by the Mary Sue bitch. Or tortured. Or used in some odd ritual involving Drusilla and a crappily-written spell. Whatever.

The two males got off of me and I stood up, popping my back, and then my neck, the satisfying pops making me let out a sigh of satisfaction. "Okay, so . . ." I looked at the two of them. Kurt and Spike were glaring at each other. Kurt had a red mark on his face, and Spike had a bloody nose. For obvious reasons I hadn't noticed that before. My heart was finally slowing down and my body was relaxing. Last time hadn't nearly been as action-packed. Good God. I remembered both of them running after me, and I couldn't help but smile, and warmth feel my chest. "Um . . . thanks. For, y'know . . . saving me."

"Well, duh, Anne, what, like I was gonna just stand and laugh as she mangled your corpse," Kurt muttered as he rolled his eyes. He then lifted his arm and smelled his armpit. "But yeah I'm gettin' kinda ripe, and these clothes suck. God, I can't believe I was Kenny. Why do I always gotta die?"

"Why do I always get sucked into dimensions looking like crap?" I retaliated, my hand going up to my messy hair.

"You didn't before," Spike told me.

"She looked like a whore," Kurt said.

"Okay, the skirt isn't even that short, Kurt. It goes to the knees," I snapped angrily, folding my arms over my chest, suddenly annoyed at what he said for some reason.

"Hey, brats," Spike stated, getting our attention. We both looked at him, and he held up a bouquet of roses. "Mind tellin' me why these just appeared in my hand?"

Kurt and Spike both looked at me expectantly. "What?"

"You're the one obsessed with fic," Kurt explained with a shrug.

Spike lifted the roses. "This look familiar?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Um . . . I have no idea what season we're in, what episode, hell, I don't even know where we are . . ." I looked around, noticing we were in a nice neighbourhood. "Spike? Where are we?"

"Buffy's is two houses that way," Spike answered, pointing over his shoulder.

"Well, we've been kinda stuck in a 'rewrite' loop, so . . . But I don't think Spike ever carried around a bouquet of roses. Can you remem . . . Well, when Joyce died, he dropped off some flowers. Can't remember if they were roses, though. Spike, is there a card in there? Unsigned."

He looked through the bouquet. "Nope. Not a card."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Huh. Well, I gotta agree with Kurt, though, I think it's time we wash up. And get new clothes. Hey, we could go shopping. I mean, it'll probably be a long-ass time before we get outta this dimension, so . . ."

"With what cash, ho?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Uh . . ." I pointed at Spike. Spike puffed out his chest and smirked at me. "We could just break in."

Kurt looked at me, his mouth agape. "Whoa, what? You're steppin' off your goody-goody high-horse enough to break into a store and rob it blind?"

Well, when he said it like that, it did sound a bit more . . . Well, wrong. I was too used to thinking of the Buffyverse in a fictional way. Sure, _writing_ Spike breaking into a store was easy enough, but actually doing it was another. I guess coaxing Spike to steal was just as bad, but now that I was actually contemplating joining them, my conscience was eating at me.

"Well . . . Um, maybe I should do somethin' else . . . Get a job, get some quick cash . . . somehow . . . Or, y'know, I could just wash the clothes and keep wearing them."

Spike scoffed and shook his head. "God, you're a sodding white hat. You've never stolen a single thing, have you?"

"You say it like it's a bad thing," I muttered, folding my arms.

"So, let's see--you're a virgin, you've never stolen anything . . . you ever skipped a class? Said a naughty word?"

"I've skipped classes before. And I swear all the time, dude. Really."

Kurt nodded. "Actually, yeah. She can have a worse mouth than me at times. Get her good and riled. It's bloody funny actually."

Spike raised an eyebrow, clearly disbelieving. "Go on. Let a few loose, baby."

I sighed and rolled my eyes. "It's all edited anyway, Spike. I'll do it when we get into PWP territory."

Spike furrowed his eyebrows. "All right. Sure . . . Come on, luv, you're in a different sodding dimension--it doesn't bloody count. So get your arse into gear. Whether you want to or not, I'm sneakin' into that store. And if _you_ don't pick the clothes, _I_ will. You think you look like a trollop _now?"_

My face fell.

I started stalking off. "Come on, let's go," I ordered. No way in _hell_ was I letting him dress me.

* * *

"Okay, do you _have_ a soul?" Anne asked, one eyebrow raised.

"What's wrong with it?" Spike asked, looking at the clothes he had suggested she take.

"Okay, that skirt looks more like . . . um, what the _hell?_ Would that even cover my vagina? That strap of fabric costs _how much?"_ She jerked it out of his hands and glared at the price tag. "What the **FUNK?** This costs more than most houses."

"Hence, with the stealing," Spike said with a smug little smirk, staring at her openly.

"My legs are hideous," she answered, then tossed it over her shoulder. She tilted her head to the side. "Now_ this_ however . . ." She walked and plucked a black shirt off of the hanger. It was low-cut and the sleeves were cut off halfway down her arm. "This is nice."

Spike scoffed, plucked it out of her hands, and threw it over his shoulder. "Luv, come on. Alternate dimension here--stop dressing so . . . boring."

Anne rolled her eyes. "It was low-cut Spike."

"Showin' off your cleavage is fine, luv . . . But put some more . . . pizzazz in your clothes." He curled his tongue across his bottom teeth and smirked at her, noticing the fact she blushed when he looked at her that way. He gently elbowed her. "Go on. Won't hurt. Get noticed."

"Yes, because I want to become the Mary Sue that describes her awesome clothing with more precision than a doctor uses in surgery."

Spike rolled his eyes, grabbed her arm, and dragged her over to a bunch of clothes that he thought more satisfying to look at. "What about these? Dresses are . . . uh, conservative, right?"

"Conservative?" She gently pulled her arm out of his grasp. "Now you're making me sound all frumpy."

Spike smirked evilly at her. "Well . . ."

"I am _not_ frumpy!" she exclaimed, staring at him with wide eyes.

"You've got D's. Nice hips. You're twenty. Sodding live a little."

Anne rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Yes, but in order to do that, I'd actually have to be _hot."_

Spike wrapped his arm around Anne's shoulder and put his mouth next to her ear. He wasn't stupid. He saw the 'damn that man is sexy' looks she'd shot his way when she thought he couldn't see. "You _are_ hot," he whispered as seductively as he could.

It had been a long time since he'd gotten any decent action (Harmony didn't count) and she was pretty. Right, so she wasn't the sexiest woman alive (she was surrounded by sodding actresses, after all) but hell, she wasn't ugly.

She stiffened under his arm and ducked her head, then delicately pushed his arm off of her. He tried to catch her gaze, but she moved her head so he couldn't look her in the eyes. But he could hear her heartbeat pounding about three hundred miles a minute, and see the fact her cheeks were a bright red.

"Uh . . . th-this, um . . . How does this look?" she asked, picking up a blood-red dress with a plunging neckline. The straps were thin and off-the-shoulder, plus the dress (though ankle-length) did have a slit up one side.

He smirked. "Much better."

* * *

Spike held the bouquet in his hands, turning it over and over, so that the candlelight hit it. Each rose was perfect. Not a droopy petal, not a slight discolouration--ever single rose was what one would think a rose _should_ look like.

"I didn't know you had a shower," Anne said as she plopped down on the mattress beside Spike. Her dirty-blonde hair was scraggly and wet, clinging to her face, and she was wearing his black t-shirt and some boxers for nightclothes. He also noticed she wasn't wearing a bra.

"Well, I have rep to keep, y'know. Bein' a sex god, an' all."

The shower, that was also in the underground of Spike's crypt, but down the tunnel a bit, started up. Kurt let out a somewhat girly shriek. "Oi! Bitch! You took all the hot water!"

Anne ignored him. "I'm not really tired. Well, I just took a nap in the _Hush_ rewrite. Actually, no, that wasn't a nap, that was a full-on **FUNKY** REM sleep." She folded her legs and sighed. She suddenly perked up and smiled at him. "We should go to the Bronze. All three of us. I've never been to a club before. Our town kinda sucks."

Spike nodded. "You could wear some of your new clothes," he said with a smirk, and a very appreciative leer.

She looked at him, and for once, she actually held eye contact longer than a few seconds. "Maybe. I was thinking about that . . . um, that red shirt with the black lace over it. I really liked that."

"Would you be dancing?" he asked flirtatiously.

If she caught the flirty tone, she didn't act like it. Nor did she seem to notice that his knee was touching hers, or the fact that she was wearing his clothes, on his bed, completely alone, the sounds of the shower the only noise, and that their situation was somewhat intimate. "Oh, yeah. I like to dance. I'm actually a pretty good dancer. At school dances, it really was the only time guys thought I was hot. Plus, as I've already been told, British chicks are hot. Maybe I'll catch someone's eye."

He leaned his face closer to hers. "I think I can guarantee that . . ."

For a second she looked like she was going to ask what he meant by that, then her dark blue eyes met his. She looked at his mouth briefly. She cleared her throat and looked away from him. Spike clenched his jaw.

"Well, seeing as you have the Buffy shrine . . . I'd say mid- to late-season five. I wish I could tell by your clothes, but you, apparently, keep your same body, like we do. Hence the chip. The chip still works, right? So then how do you have a soul . . . or do you just _think_ you have a soul? Would you have broken into the store and nicked stuff with it?"

"Uh, pet," he said, putting his hand over hers. She looked at him, her face pale. "You're babbling."

"Nervous habit. Well, I talk a lot without being nervous as it is, so you can imagine the babble-fest I am when I'm nervous, so--"

"I make you nervous, then?" he said slowly as he stroked the side of her hand with his thumb.

"Um, duh?" she responded. He tilted his head, and she averted her eyes. Her vision landed on the bouquet. She pulled her hand from his and pulled up the flowers. "These are nice."

He sighed. "Yep, guess so."

She glanced at him, and judging by the look on her face, she caught the fact he was more than annoyed. "You're in love with Buffy, Spike. Come on, you think I'm the type of girl to just shag a total looker with a few flirty glances, even though I know you're in love with someone else? I'm not Harmony. Take a big whiff, Spike--I'm sure you can tell I'm a virgin. You think a few sexy smirks and panty-dropping glances are gonna . . . Well, get my panties droppin'?"

"There are _other_ things we coul--"

"No," she interrupted, then hopped off the bed, taking the roses with her.

There was an uncomfortable silence that followed, as Spike watched her pace. She was looking at the Buffy shrine, which was haphazard. Pictures were strewn all over the place, broken pieces of wood littered the floor, there were some chains that seemed to grab her attention . . .

She picked up the chain with the hand that wasn't holding the roses. "Huh. Post-_Crush_ then . . ."

"Luv, you're gonna have to explain all this season nonsense, an' I gather that you're mentionin' episode names . . . _Hush_ is a bloody obvious one . . . but, what's--"

"These roses are perfect," she said, talking over him. He wasn't even sure if she was aware he'd talked at all. She looked at him. "Too perfect. No bouquet on this planet could ever be this perfect. The Buffy shrine is all beat up, there are chains--after you threatened to stake Dru--really glad you didn't by the way, she's awesome--but you haven't packed up the stuff for the Buffybot, so . . . Oh! Oh, I know what cliché this is!"

Her good mood was apparently infectious, because he was suddenly less bitter. "Yeah? What is it?"

"The speech cliché! All you have to do is show up at Buffy's house, listen to her bitch you out for a few seconds, then spout off this speech about how much you love her. Then she kisses you and forgives you for chaining her up like a psycho and probably realizes she's in love with you." She tossed the roses at him and he caught them deftly in his left hand. "Simple."

"I thought we were tryin' to prevent the clichés, luv."

She opened her mouth, then frowned a little bit. "Well . . . we only get zapped into the next cliché when we actually finish the cliché . . . That _is_ weird. Last time, the world righted itself every time the Sue did something that wasn't Sue-ish . . ."

"So . . . Do I do the cliché or not?"

She shrugged. "Why not? It's really kinda fluffy. And you get to kiss Buffy again--uh, without being punched in the face."

He nodded, then hopped off the bed. "Right. So, what do I say? Hey, I could just say, uh, what I told her that night we cuddled."

"Oh, God no," she said in complete disgust. His face fell. Was it that bad? He thought it was pretty good. "That's way too good for this cliché. Trust me, I've writ--uh . . . _read_ a few of these. Okay, so I've written _and_ read a few. There is a very, um . . . precise . . ." She furrowed her eyebrows. "Do you have pen and paper? Wait, of course you do. You're a poet."

Spike raised an eyebrow at her. "I hate the fact there's a dimension where loads of chits know that. Look over by the shrine. Did a lot of writin' there."

"You good with memorizing stuff?" she asked absently as she strolled over to it. Spike watched her ass as she walked.

"I have every one o' Shakespeare's sonnets memorized," he answered, tilting his head and keeping his eyes on her round backside.

She looked over her shoulder, her wet hair slapping her face when she did so. He quickly averted his eyes and put on his best innocent expression. "Is that for real, or is that a cliché thing?"

Spike's face fell. "I'm not answering that."

She turned back to the desk and pulled up a piece of paper. "I'm gonna write you the fluffiest, most cliché speech known to man. If this doesn't work, then we know the world is righting itself. If she jumps into your arms and snogs you senseless, then we know the world is still screwed up. I want you to know I write a crap-load better than this, all right?"

"Can't be worse than the crap I used to write."

"I'm probably gonna use the word effulgent like four times and compare Buffy to a sun."

Spike cringed.

* * *

Kurt yanked open the tattered shower curtain and stepped out of the porcelain tub that Spike had somehow stolen and hooked up to the water pipes. He was freezing cold. That didn't surprise him, since the water he'd showered in had felt like ice, and they were underground. He was going to kill Anne. He yanked the towel off of the shoddy stand that Spike had towels and toothbrushes on, and wrapped it around his waist.

Normally he would have taken a lot longer in the shower, but no, someone had to take all the hot water. It wasn't like he could wank with the water being as cold as it was.

He stormed through the tunnels, heading straight for the area underneath Spike's crypt. When he rounded the corner and recognized the room, he immediately started talking. "Anne, you're such a bitch, you knew I was gonna take a shower right after you, and you still . . ."

The place was empty. He looked around and listened for any tell-tale noises coming from upstairs. It didn't take a genius to figure out that he'd been left.

"Son of a bitch."

* * *

A/N--_Dollhouse_ doesn't belong to me, but to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Har-rizzle Pot-izzle belongs to JK Rowling, and thusly, so does Snape (but I don't think she likes him very much.) Anyway, I command you all to watch Dollhouse. Seriously. You should. Do it, or the kitten gets it! (Gets what, exactly, I don't know . . .)

**Next time: How bad is Anne's speech? Just how many times does she use the word effulgent? And what does Miss Edith have to do with this?**


	11. Fruit of Whose Loins?

_Previously, on Sparkle, Sheen:_

_Ashes Falling was whooping and hollering while she jumped around the computer room. Her father burst into the room. "What the hell is going on here?" he demanded._

_"Dollhouse got picked up for a second season!" she exclaimed, then continued doing her victory dance._

_FLASH!_

_Joss Whedon blinked at the parody in front of him. Reading fanfics was a guilty pleasure of his, even if he never reviewed. One eyebrow lifted upwards as he continued reading Sparkle, Sheen. "What the hell did this girl smoke before typing this?" he asked to no one in particular._

_FLASH!_

_Stephanie Meyer read Ashes Falling's other BtVS-centred parody, Bella, the Vampire Slayer, and began to cry._

_FLASH!_

_"Your skin . . . is like diamonds . . ." Buffy said dully as she stared at the Furgolith'ick'shar demon, which was (incidentally) a demon entirely made up of diamonds. "You're beautiful!"_

_Spike scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell, the demon's managed to hypnotize her. Best go chop its head off."_

_Giles sighed as Buffy began trotting closer to its shiny, diamond-like form. "Yes, well, it happens to have that affect on women."_

_"Diiiiiaaaaammmoooonnnddsss," Xander drooled, arms stretched outwards as he sluggishly walked over to the demon as well._

_FADE TO BLACK_

Chapter 10: Fruit Of Whose Loins?

Spike was walking leisurely down Revello Drive, perfectly content to be strolling next to Anne. Actually, the accurate phrasing would have been, perfectly content not to spout off the horrid piece of crap Anne had made him memorize.

"Luv, any girl with a brain would laugh me outta town with this garbage." He held up the piece of paper he'd since memorized. "Honestly, I'm gonna humiliate m'self. More so than I already have with Buffy. God, you realize this'll be worse than with Cecily, yeah? I'm the worst sodding poet in London and I think _this_ is horrid."

"I wasn't trying for great. I was trying for cliché. And for your information, your effulgent poem wasn't that bad. I actually like it." She cleared her throat. "The 'from twixt its wee beak' one makes my ears bleed, though." She winced. "Sorry. That was rude."

He wasn't offended. He knew it was true. He was more concerned with the fact she liked the one that he'd been taunted because of. "You . . . really like the effulgent poem?"

"Yeah, sure. The finished version is better." She looked at him warily. "You're not gonna kiss me, are you?"

"Was thinkin' on it . . ." he admitted, then tilted his head. "How'd you--"

"It's another cliché. Any time someone compliments your poetry, you kiss them." She brushed off her black shirt. One side of it had long sleeves, where as the other had nothing holding it up. "Are you sure this shirt is nice? It's all . . asymmetrical."

"Looks great. Now, about the usage of 'effulgent' in your li'l speech . . ."

"It's like every fangirl's favourite word. Trust me, it's necessary."

"Is it _your _favourite word?" he asked slyly.

"Um, it's up there. Melancholy's my absolute favourite, though. We're almost there."

"If she smacks me, I'm gonna tear your head off."

She smirked at him. "Ooh, would've been a bit more threatening without the chip." He turned to walk away, but she quickly grabbed his arm. He turned back to face her. "Make sure it doesn't sound rehearsed," she ordered, her face so serious he almost laughed.

"I'll do it good, babe, don't worry."

He tired to walk away again, but she gripped his arm and made him look at her. "I really can write better than that, I swear."

"I think this makes the fourth time you've said that," he reminded, then shook his arm free, then turned back towards Buffy's house.

She grabbed his arm and he turned around quickly. "What? Unless you've forgotten, I'm about to get snogged by the woman I love, so could you make this quick?" he snapped.

She raised her eyebrow at him. "Make sure she kisses you--do _not_ kiss her. Buffy makes the first move, okay?"

"Okay. Can I go now?"

He let go of his arm and gestured forward, a small smile on her face. "Go on ahead. I'll be watching. You're my favourite couple, you know."

Spike tilted his head. It was an odd thing to hear--someone telling him that a relationship that had been anything but cute, a relationship that was as vague as one of Drusilla's crazy ramblings and had been one hell of a physiologist's wet dream for several months, was her favourite relationship, as if it were cute as hell.

It made him grin. At least he wasn't the only one who was screwed up in the head.

He strolled up Buffy's walk, unaware of the fact Anne was following him for a few seconds. "What are you doin'?" he asked, looking at her incredulously.

She pointed at the tree. "I was gonna climb that, hide in the branches, and watch. She won't see me."

"Uh, how do you--"

"She won't." She hurried over to the tree and jumped, trying to grab the lowest branch. She failed. After a few more tries, Spike went over, grabbed her, and hoisted her up. "Thanks," she murmured and she pulled herself into the branches.

He waited to make sure she didn't fall and hurt herself before going to Buffy's porch.

He knocked on the door. "You sodding owe me, luv," he called over his shoulder, bouncing on his heels with a scowl on his face.

The door opened, and there Buffy stood, her golden, wavy hair framing her face, her lips in a scowl, and looking adorable, as ever.

"Ugh, it's you. Let me take this time to randomly state I hate your guts."

Spike blinked a few times. "Uh, right. Here. I got you . . . uh, flowers," he handed them over.

She took them. "What do you want?" She tossed the flowers behind her, and they landed perfectly in a vase on a table beside the wall next to the stairs. She whipped out a stake. "Because I'm done. You better give me a good reason in the next ten seconds not to stake you, or you'll be nothing but dust. Because I hate you. You chained me to a wall last night. What could you possibly have to say to make me change my mind?"

Spike swallowed the nervous lump in his throat. "Right . . . Well, luv, I know what I did was wrong, but well . . . Dru liked that sorta thing. I thought it would impress you. Buffy, what you don't understand is that I love you. I know you don't wanna hear it, but I do. You're like a sun--if I see you, I burn, but I wanna see you, so I would rather burn then never see your glorious, effulgent face. God, did I just say effulgent?" he muttered that last part to himself, grimacing at the usage of it. He just didn't like that word.

Buffy raised an eyebrow at him, then twitched her stake warningly.

"Right. Yeah. Sorry. But really, luv, you're better than that. Sod Cecily. You're beyond effulgent. You're a glowing, gleaming, glistening light full of radiance--which, by the way, means the same thing as effulgent . . ." he growled, casting a quick glance over his shoulder. He looked back at Buffy. Both of her eyebrows were raised. "Right. Well, you're beyond that. Like I said, a burning sun, and I can't live without the burn, Buffy. I gotta have you. I gotta stare at you.

"Sod Drusilla. She was nothing compared to you. I'd throw my wipe, wicked plum aside just for one minute alone with you, my glorious, effulgent, shining, burning sun. I'm addicted to you. Addicted to the sun. I miss it so, Buffy. Haven't glanced at it since 1880, but when I'm near you, it's the closest thing to it. I can see it in your eyes, taste it in the air 'round you, hear it in your voice, smell it in your scent . . ."

Buffy tilted her head.

He couldn't remember the next line. It wasn't his fault--he hadn't had long to memorize it. After a few seconds, it came to him, though. "Oh, right. Yeah, and you're brilliant, beyond anything I've ever touched, Riley's a git for leavin' you, Angel's a pouf for makin' you think you could ever had normal, Parker's just a sap and deserves to get his throat torn out for not givin' you a second go, blah, blah, blah. Beautiful, gorgeous, I love you, effulgent, sun, you've got the sodding picture, yeah?" he muttered, sick of the crap he had memorized. He knew the rest. He just wasn't going to say it.

He heard Anne smack her forehead.

"Truth is, Slayer, I love you. Nothin' I say can ever explain just how much. You an' I both know you're just posturing with the stake threat, and yeah, I chained you up. Bad move. I get it. I'm an idiot. But nothin' I say here will change your view of me, so I think I'm gonna pick up my shattered dignity and leave. I was gonna mention how I had poetry I sodding hate scattered throughout my crypt because of you, and I think I was gonna compare you to the sun a few more times, somethin' about my yin to your yang, but really, it doesn't matter, does it? I love you. Whether or not you believe me is a different issue, but trust me, a few badly written words isn't gonna change that. Enjoy your flowers."

He turned on his heel and started stomping down the walk. Cliché or not, no matter how badly the world was screwed, no way was Buffy going to kiss him after all that.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around. Buffy's mouth crashed to his without warning, and for a second he didn't know what to do. Then he came to his senses, wrapped his arms around her, and devoured her mouth with his.

It had been a long time since he'd properly kissed Buffy. After a whole sodding year of her vague looks, awkward sexual tension, and guilt galore over what he tried to do in the bathroom . . . Well, it was about damn time he got his tongue in her throat. Not to mention the year locked up in Wolfram and Hart, without any action whatsoever (Harmony didn't count) he was hungry for this. He needed this.

He loved Buffy, and she was in his arms, once again. Kissing him like she loved him. Not like some toy she used to feel real. Not because she was so depressed because she'd been ripped out of heaven and he was the only thing to make her feel living.

She pulled away too soon, although the kiss hadn't been short by any means, her eyes sparkling like diamonds. "I love you," she said.

It should have made Spike giddy.

But he wasn't. He knew it wasn't really her. It was just bad writing. A stupid ending to a cliché fic. Buffy had told him she loved him before--and she hadn't meant it then, either. She's just said it because he was dying.

Buffy didn't love him.

She never really would.

* * *

Anne was on the bottom. Again. What a shocker. She didn't have to say anything to get them off of her this time, though.

She stood up and brushed herself off, glad she was no longer wearing that skirt, when she saw that her brother was in nothing but a towel.

She burst into laughter. "Now who's the whore?" she managed through her chuckles.

"It's not my fault you assholes took off while I was showering! And finished the cliché! What, you thought I hadn't figured it out? You finish the cliché, you hop into the next one! What, did you think I would be dressed?"

"Uh . . . yeah, actually," Anne said. "We've been walking for forty-five minutes."

"What? But I only took like a ten minute shower," he responded, looking her over with obvious confusion etched on his face.

"Well, that's an obvious plot-hole, then. I would've waited, but I figured you wouldn't want to watch Spike spout off some really, really horrible stuff and get kissed."

"God, sounds like a chick-flick. I'd rather shoot--" For no reason whatsoever, a bunch of boxes fell from the sky and landed beside them with a thud. "Turn your fat ass around so I can get dressed, trick," he said, completely unfazed by the appearance of the boxes.

Anne blinked at the boxes a few times, then turned around. Spike was wandering a few feet away, scuffing up the ground. Anne walked over to him. "A bunch of boxes with our stuff showed up. So . . . What's up? You look kinda sad."

"She didn't mean it," he muttered.

"Well, it's a cliché, Spike. That's not really Buffy. And in case you haven't noticed, sometimes you're a little off too, so--"

"When I was dying. She didn't mean it."

Anne fidgeted. "Well, uh . . . That's not necessarily--I mean, you think she didn't, but I believe she did. Spike, look, she loved you. She meant it when she said it. You think she's the type of girl to spout that stuff off when she doesn't mean it? She never said it to Riley. Why d'ya think he scampered off? Look, she--"

"I've been alive for over a century, luv. I think I can tell the difference." He shook his head. "It's so sodding pointless. Nothing I do will ever--"

"An' wot in th' 'ell is goin' on 'ere?" came a voice from behind them, the cockney accent thicker than any Anne had ever heard.

She turned towards the voice and saw a short, petite girl, probably around her age, strolling up to them. She had a cigarette in her left hand. She had brilliant blue eyes and full, pouting lips, long, flowing natural blonde hair, and her fingernails were covered with chipped black polish. She was wearing a red leather duster over a white tank, holey jeans, and doc martins.

"Uh, pardon?" Anne managed after a second.

She ashed and stormed over to Anne, pushing her none-too-gently. "I said, wot in th' 'ell's goin' on 'ere, luv." She turned to Spike, threw her cigarette over her shoulder, and immediately stuck another in her mouth. "Wot you doin' with this chit, Dad? Oi, you cheatin' on Mum? Bloody 'ell this ain't soddin' right!"

Anne raised an eyebrow at the beautiful girl. Now that she had figured it out, the girl looked like an exact replica of Buffy and Spike. "Um, hey, this isn't what you th--"

"Wasn't askin' you, bint!" she snapped, tossed her already-smoked cigarette over her shoulder, then whipped out a stake with her left hand and raised it. "Wot, y'think I'm gonna talk to a home-wreckin' doxy like you, then? I'll stake you good'n proper-like!"

"I'm not doing anything with him."

"'Ere I am, patrollin', stakin' meself some vamps, an' wot, I pop 'round to see you chattin' it up wiv me dad?" she growled, arching an eyebrow at Anne. Anne noticed the fact that all of her 'long I' sounds were pronounced with a heavy 'oi' instead. It was quite irritating.

Anne glanced at Spike to see he was gaping at the girl, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

"Um, I'm not with Spike . . . er, romantically. He just, uh . . . saved me, from--"

"Oooh! Spuffy! Yay!" came a dreamy British voice from the other side. Another girl charged at her, holding her red dress above her knees as she ran. She looked very similar to Dru, but her long raven hair was in curls. "What's going on here? Who's this, Daddy?" she asked, her full lips in a cute pout, her large blue eyes sparkling.

"Yeah, who is this, Dad?" the first girl demanded, lifting her stake higher, a random cigarette appearing in her mouth.

"Er, just . . . some chit I saved. Her brother's right over there." He gestured towards Kurt.

The blonde cockney and the brunette dreamy-voiced Brit turn towards Kurt who was shirtless and holding a Metallica shirt in one hand, his fro-ish hair still damp. He looked between then, then smirked, completely comfortable with the fact his chubby stomach was showing. "Sup, ladies. I'm single."

They both blinked, then turned back to Anne. "Wot, I'm like, Spuffy, innit?" said the cockney girl as she put her stake away.

The brunette with curly hair giggled and somehow made her luminous eyes sparkle madly. "I'm Spru."

Anne nodded. "Ah-hah . . . I see."

"Ooh, new friends, I like friends. Ooh, Daddy, can we take them home to keep forever and ever?" Spru asked, batting her huge eyes.

Spike blinked a few times, looked between Spru and Spuffy, then at Anne and Kurt. He shook his head slowly. "Uh . . . Sure."

"Wanna help with these boxes?" Kurt asked, pulling the shirt over his head.

"Sure! I'm a vampire, so I'm super-strong. Because I was made out of Daddy and Mommy's love in the sixties," Spru explained, then skipped merrily over to a box and grinned at Kurt. "I like daisies! And jasmine, cake, and honey."

"That's cool," Kurt said, putting more boxes in her arms.

"I'm a slayer, so wot, I'm strong too, an' Spru's me best mate, yeah?" Spuffy stated, lifting several boxes, and continued to smoke the cigarette in her mouth. "Me parents--Spike an' Buffy--well yeah they did a spell an' I came out o' me mum's tummy an' now I got wot like Slayer powers an' all."

"Ooh my golly gee gosh I can't wait for you to meet all our friends! Oh, it'll be ever so much fun! Miss Edith will be so pleased!"

"Oh, cor, mate, wot abou' all their friends an' all? This'll be bloody fantastic. Oi, mates, you'll love our soddin' friends, yeah?" She spat out her finished smoke, and another appeared in her mouth.

Kurt, Anne, and Spike all shared looks, then shrugged.

* * *

A giant porcelain doll, the size of a normal human woman, walked into the room, turning her glassy eyes towards Anne and Kurt. "You must be the friends I saw coming with my super-awesome visions."

Anne blinked. "What the . . . ?"

Kurt stared stupidly. "Bloody hell."

"Miss Edith?" Spike exclaimed, then shook his head. "Right, yeah. Two, uh . . . people I saved, so uh . . . they're gonna need a place to stay . . ."

"Daddy!" yet another girl cried, and she came flying into the room. Literally flying. She had short red hair and big green eyes, but delicate cheekbones and voluptuous curves that Willow lacked. She flew into Spike's arms and hugged him. She wasn't British. "I'm so glad your home."

"You must be Spillow," Anne greeted.

"Uh . . . How'd you know?" she asked, then began floating their boxes into another room.

Kurt scoffed. "You sure do get around, Spike."

"Oh my God you should meet my sexy-ass boyfriend! I used to date Spru, but it was just a phase," Spillow stated, grabbing Anne's hand and forcing her into a room where a hundreds of kids all Anne's age (or thereabouts) stood. "Biley! Biley, I want you to meet my new friends."

A good looking man with light brown hair and green eyes came forward. He was wearing army clothes, and he had Buffy's nose. "Requesting permission to kiss you, baby," he said.

Spillow and Biley immediately started snogging, and floating in the air.

Anne shuddered at the thought of Riley and Buffy having a kid together. A boy who looked exactly like Biley came up to her. "Hey, I'm Riffy. Biley's twin brother. We had another brother called Ruffy, but he's got a thing for older women and he's off having sex with Professor Walsh. Who's a monster, actually. I think he got the whole demon fetish from Mom."

Just then, Spike let out a feral scream. "You're name is _Spiley?_ Oh bloody hell. What, I suppose there's a Spander in here too?"

"Hey, Dad!" Spander called, joining Spiley's side. He looked at Anne, his dark eyes glinting mischievously. "Who's the babe?"

"This is so **FUNKED** up," Kurt mumbled, his hands going to his forehead.

"Oi, time to meet my true love, yeah? It's Winder. Pronounced wot like 'wind' that blows in th' sky with an 'er' at the end, yeah?" Spuffy said, wrapping her arm around a ginger kid's shoulders who looked just like Xander, but with red hair.

Anne shook her head. "Whoa, wait, so . . . you guys are all . . . kids of the Scooby Gang? Oh, my God . . . I think I need to . . . go elsewhere before I meet Guffy."

A blonde boy with glasses appeared at her side. "You called? You could meet my half-sisters Ganya and Gillow, too."

Anne shook her head, and left the room promptly, shutting the door behind her. She closed her eyes, blocking out horrible mental images that paraded in her mind. Although, she couldn't help but laugh when she heard Spike scream "SPANGEL?!" in a very high-pitched voice.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Miss Edith calmly sipping tea. "Want some?" she asked, her lips never moving.

Anne shook her head. "Uh . . . nah, I'm good."

"Well . . . You could go play with the other kids in the playroom. We mostly leave them to their own devices. They don't get along with the others, actually."

Anne nodded and went to the door the giant doll gestured towards. She opened the door to see four teens, lounging about in the rather normal looking room. Anne tucked a strand of crimpy hair behind her ear when they all stopped talking and looked at her.

"Uh, hey. Sorry."

"Who are you?" a girl with glasses asked. She was small and frail looking, with light green eyes behind her glasses looking Anne over carefully.

"I'm Anne," she said, going over and sitting on the floor next to the four of them. "Sorry, it just got crazy in the other room . . ."

"Anne, huh? Spike and Buffy's then? You're the only one we've ever gotten. Which I totally understand. I mean, they're only written by fangirls from hell and they're always complete Mary Sue bitches too. Gotta say, can't really see the resemblance--well, you got Dad's hair. You know, curly. And Buffy's blonde." She tugged on her wavy, but slightly unkempt, dirty-blonde hair. "Well _now _I see it. Oh, I'm Daisy, by the way. Daisy Ellen Pratt." She shook Anne's hand briefly. "We've got the same dad. Dru's my mom, though. Not that I care 'cause she's a psycho, but well, what can you do?" She picked up her remote and pointed it at the stereo, skipping that song that was playing--which Anne noticed was _Dancing With Myself._ "I hate Billy Idol," Daisy said as by way of explanation.

"I'm sorry . . . Uh, what?" Anne finally blinked. "No, I'm not Buffy and Spike's kid. I just uh . . . Spike saved me and my brother--sorry, my brother and me, bad grammar--and we just . . . came by. Saw the, uh . . . How do you know what Mary Sues are anyway?" Anne asked, her head still having a hard time wrapping around the concept of whatever the hell was going on.

"We're OC's. You know, well-written ones that just happen to be kids of the characters and so the authors are too afraid to post 'em 'cause o' the loser bitches and dicks in the other room. Take me, for example. Not exactly pretty, bit of a talker--kinda an attention seeker, trust issues, too--but yeah, I have a thing for Xander. But the author won't post my story 'cause I'm Spike and Dru's kid due to this really weird spell. I'm not good at school, either. Well, except English and geography. That's it. Ellen means effulgent by the way. I have ADD." She leaned back and pushed her glasses into a more comfortable position.

Anne nodded slowly. "And . . . She's afraid no one will give you a chance. Right, I get it. Uh . . . Who are you, then?" she asked, looking at the dark-haired boy with brown eyes. He was attractive and had a familiar grin on his face. He was looking at a porno mag. He glanced up from it. "Oh, I'm Adrian. Xander and Anya's kid. Yeah, I'm from an AU fic where my dad didn't puss out and leave Mom at the altar. Kinda live with my foot permanently in my mouth. You're kinda hot. Wanna bone?" He flinched. "See what I mean?"

Anne looked over to see an auburn girl in khakis and a large t-shirt. She had her auburn hair pulled up into a haphazard bun, and she was doodling on a piece of paper. "What's your name?" she asked.

She looked at Anne and smiled nervously. "Uh . . . Jessie . . ."

Anne furrowed her brows. "Jessie?"

The other boy scooted over to her, after switching the CD player back to the Billy Idol song. "Xander and Willow's. She's really shy. Her and I are dating, but it's nothing serious. I'm Tarley, by the way." He stuck out his hand and shook hers. He had a broad frame and a charming grin, with blonde hair that hung in front of his eyes boyishly. "Tara and Riley. Nobody reads that crap. I was written for a troll!fic but my character wasn't actually bad. They stuck me in here though because I almost ended the world."

Anne frowned. "How'd that happen?"

"Oh, well, Tara realized that Willow and Xander would only ever really love each other and Riley was kinda upset that Buffy didn't love him, and--"

Anne shook her head and lifted up her hand. "Wait, I was talking about the world ending."

"Well the universe went spinning off of its axis and almost flew into the sun--luckily Superman saved us--because Tara knocked up Riley. That really pissed off the world."

Anne scowled. "Ugh, Superman is such a tool . . . Wait, Tara knocked _Riley_ up?"

"Yeah, you try being liked when you're a character made to make fun of mpreg posted in a slash archive," he muttered. "Stony and I used to be friends, but he's in a different fandom and we're not in a crossover."

"Stony?" she repeated, furrowing her brows in confusion.

"Steve Rogers and Tony Stark. Stony was cast aside because most people in that fandom are smart enough to avoid mpreg crap."

Anne nodded. "Right . . . So, Miss Edith is an actual uh . . . living thing now? What's up with that?"

"Bloody hell!" Daisy snapped, although she sounded American. "I hate Billy Idol! Who switched it back? Was it you, Adrian, you jackass? It was, wasn't it? You stupid prick!"

"Calm down, Daiz," Adrian muttered as he flipped the page and tossed his hair away from his eyes. "Just because Billy stole dear padre's image doesn't mean--"

"It has nothing to do with that," she snapped as she switched to the next song. "I don't like Bubblegum Pop. Why don't you go hang out with Xanya and Yander?"

"'Cause they're queers," he muttered simply. Anne reeled back in shock at him. He shrugged. "Yeah, I'm kinda homophobic. The fic was about me learning to be open-minded 'cause my best friend turned out to be gay. The fic never got that far, though, because the reviewers were too stupid to realize that I was _not_ representing the author's own ideals and got her fic deleted. So I never actually got to get over it. You know how I said that thing about my foot living in my mouth?"

"You're a flat-out douche," Tarley stated.

Adrian shrugged. "It happens. It's because I never got to experience character change. Wow look at those hooters."

"God I really need a smoke. You smoke? I need a cig. Miss Edith smoked my last pack. Oh, I'm left-handed by the way. Cool, huh? It's cold in here. Jessie, you wanna heat it up a bit?"

Jessie calmly sat her pencils aside and folded her legs, starting a chant. A few seconds later her doodle caught fire. "Ah! Crap! Crap!"

Tarley ran over there and stomped out the fire.

"Wow, uh . . . my life is really, really weird," Anne said, shaking her head slowly.

The door burst open and Spike strode in. "Bloody hell, Anne, we gotta get outta here. Spiley and Spangel won't soddin' leave me alone, and don't even get me started on Spander--"

"Oi, Dad, can I bum a smoke?" Daisy asked, standing up and brushing herself off. Spike was staring at her incredulously, and he looked like he was going to be sick. "I'm not a Sue like the other kids. Just really need nicotine or I'm gonna tear off Adrian's and Tarley's heads."

"Tarley?"

Tarley stopped brushing the ash off of Jesse's notebook long enough to look at Spike. "Yeah, Tara got Riley knocked up and sent the world spinning into the sun, but Superman saved us."

Spike scoffed. "That sod is such a tool, an' . . . wait, Tara got _Riley_ up the duff?"

Adrian nodded enthusiastically. "She said that already. I agree though. Superman's a tool. I mean, when you compare him to Batman or any of the Marvel superheroes, you really can't compare. He's too far removed form humanity for anyone to relate to him, and--"

"I know, he's such a douche, but let's move on, shall we? I need a cig, Dad, please?"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" screamed Miss Edith from the other room with the psycho Mary Sue kids.

Spike opened reached into his jacket and tossed his pack at Daisy, who caught it easily. "Just take 'em. I gotta make sure Kurt's not gettin' his arse beat in by a sodding doll bloody wankering hell mate cor."

Anne and Spike hurried towards the main room to see Kurt get thrown out on his ass. He stood up and wiped lipstick off of his mouth with the back of his hand. The door shut, but the sounds of explosions and screaming still raged loudly.

"What the hell happened?" Anne asked, noticing a fresh bruise on his cheek.

"Were you kickin' Mary Sue ass?" Daisy asked grinning beside Anne.

"Please tell me you beat Xanya and Yander up," Adrian muttered.

Tarley and Jessie stood by awkwardly, holding hands, and looking at Kurt with their eyebrows raised.

Kurt looked between them, then shrugged and walked over to Anne and Spike. "It's bloody hectic in there, that's what happened. Cormony was telling me that Spillow cheated on Biley with Guffy but Guffy was drunk or some other such **POOP** and Winder overheard and told Spaith, who's actually got a crush on Guffy or somethin' and wanted to **FUNKY** make Guffy jealous so she started snoggin' me but I guess she's actually dating Xanya so Xanya punched me, Spaith punched him, and apparently Spuffy and Spaith are like good friends so Spuffy started wailin' on Xanya and I was like 'hey now bitch that ain't fair' and she punched me, and then Spru was all 'learn to control your temper' an' that only pissed Spuffy off more and so she started screaming at Spru an' then Biley came over to find out how the fight happened and then everyone was fightin' and Miss Edith thought I started it but I really didn't. Who the **FUNK** are these guys?"

Spike pressed his hand to his forehead. "I don't bloody know. That one's my girl, though. I think. You're my daughter, yeah?"

Daisy scowled and looked Spike over with disdain. "Must be hard to keep track of all your kids since you've got a thousand. But yeah, I'm your kid. How 'bout next time you drop by you just forget to visit me altogether, jackass?"

Anne put a hand on Daisy's arm. "Um . . . it's complicated, but he's not . . . like, the Spike you're used to."

"The one I'm used to? What the hell does that mean? I think I recognize my dad when I see him, and that's my dad."

"Yeah, but he's . . . not from this dimension," Anne said, figuring that would be the simple way of explaining things.

Daisy blinked, then shrugged. "Oh. Okay. That makes sense then. So how'd he wind up here? He get stuck here 'cause someone didn't want to post a fic about him or what the hell? Or are there two Spikes? Where's my dad? The dad who visits and isn't actually all their dads. Sometimes there's Stu!Spike and he pisses me off, but Spike in the fic that I was in is pretty cool."

"Don't ask Anne, she'll talk your ear off an' explain everything in minute detail. Bitch talks a lot. Basically, we come from a different dimension with this is just a TV show an' now we got stuck here 'cause someone is writing a crappy fic and we have to fix it. Or so we think. I mean we've only done it once before under different, uh, you know, it was just different then. There was a giant penis involved, too. It was tight. Oh, and I died."

Adrian perked up suddenly. "Oh, cool. My mom knows a lot about different dimensions. Like, say, you really like shrimp . . . Or maybe you don't like shrimp at all . . ."

Daisy scoffed. "That's nice, Adrian, we all give a crap about your shrimp fetish. But how does this involve Spike-that's-not-my-dad?"

Anne sighed. "He drank my blood. That gives us connection and so wherever we go, he goes."

"So when does your blood run out?" Daisy asked. They blinked at her. "What? Don't really know why we're being zapped around, but trust me when I understand blood. When does he have to take more, 'cause you know, eventually your blood just stops working through his body. Whatever magical power that comes with it eventually just . . . Gives out."

Anne frowned. She really hadn't thought about that. "Well . . . I just thought since Kurt and I don't have to drink each other's blood, that he . . . was the same?"

"Yeah, 'cause Spike's **FUNKY** related to--" She blinked a few times. "Uh, what's with the censor?"

Kurt scoffed. "Trust me, not the weirdest thing to happen."

"Well, it's not like most of what's been going on around us has been making any logical sense whatsoever, so I wasn't thinking about how our blood mixed or whatever." Anne rubbed the back of her neck.

Daisy tilted her head and stared at the bite mark, then nodded. "Uh-huh . . . Well, I kinda got . . . More knowledge about this then you guys, so it's not really fair. But anyway, yeah, he's gonna have to drink more eventually. To keep connected to you guys for . . . Whatever reason he's connected to you for and why were you snacking on her anyway and not just full on eating her? I mean, obviously the chip isn't there if you can--"

"No, luv, I got the chip. Just played through the pain. An' I went an' got a soul, so I wasn't gonna kill her."

"Yeah, Dad, you are so gonna have to tell me that story." She looked him over. "It's not a perfect happiness curse, is it? 'Cause those are so overrated and cliché."

"I actually fought for mine, thanks. I'm not like that pouf, Angel."

Daisy chuckled. "You did it for a girl, didn't you? God, you are so whipped, Dad."

Spike shuffled on the spot a little. "Am I that predictable?"

Anne raised her hand. "I thought you were getting your chip out," she announced a little sheepishly.

"You look like eyesuhkattspeleeng!" Kurt pointed out randomly, going over to her and holding her chin between his two fingers.

Daisy jerked away from him. "Oi! Did I say you could just randomly grab my face, jackass? Holy hell!"

Anne raised an eyebrow at him. "Yeah, I figured that out when I first saw her, dude. I'm more concerned with the blood thing she was mentioning. I can't believe I didn't think of that . . . She has no idea what's going on, and she figured it out."

"Don't worry about it. I've kinda got an unfair advantage 'cause my parents are vamp--"

The door burst open and Miss Edith came out, pointing at Kurt. "You! You an your little friends need to get the hell out! I knew you were a bad omen! My visions told me so! Now take your stupid sister and whoever the hell that Spike is and get out! I know why you're here, and I won't let you do it! Get out!"

"No need to tell us twice, bitch," Kurt snapped, then stormed off in the other direction.

Anne and Spike followed.

* * *

A/N--Right, sorry about the long update, but I really have a legitimate excuse this time. My computer wouldn't allow me to actually get on the internet. Something about limited connectivity. By the way, I'm holding the next chapter hostage [hold guns up to next chapter's head.] I will not post the next chapter until I get one review. Bwahahahahahahahahaha! If you want the next chapter, then I better get one review, or you'll never see chapter ten! Just kidding. But really, don't you hate that when someone says "you can't read the next chapter until I get fifteen reviews?" I know I do. I mean, fifteen reviews in one chapter? It better be a popular genre in a popular fandom. No, but really. I didn't get a single review last chapter. But I still posted this one. Anyway . . . . le sigh.

**Next time: A room full of Sues--how will they handle that? Will Jennifer Aniston be upset at her cameo? Is Superman really a douche, and is Lex just generally way cooler?**


	12. Flash, Fwoom, Fwap!

_Previously on This Parody:_

_"Someone's following us," Xander said in a deep, manly, action-hero voice. He adjusted the rear-view mirror and narrowed his eyes. "We're gonna have to lose 'em."_

_Willow let out a shriek as Xander took a corner so sharply they went on two wheels._

_FLASH!_

_"This sucks," Kyle said as he scuffed up some snow._

_Stan cocked his head to teh side. "What does?"_

_"Our cameo," Kyle replied._

_"Oh."_

_FADE TO BLACK_

Chapter 11: Flash, Fwoom, Fwap!

"I told you, I've never read a next gen fic! And I don't write fics about the Scoobies' kids, either. So I don't know how the cliché works--except for obviously the kids don't have their own personality, but I just gathered that from what we saw in that psychotic Sue room."

"Well we can't get outta here until we figure out how to stop the cliché or whatever, so think o' something," Kurt demanded.

Anne threw her hands in the air angrily. "Why don't _you_ go think of something? You were in there longer than either of us, so you know more about them than I do."

Kurt shrugged, then leaned against the cave wall. "I dunno. If you was gonna write a Sue fic 'bout a kid of Spike and . . . Buffy or Dru or whoever the hell, what would you do?"

"Well I try to avoid Sues. And it's 'were gonna.' But um . . . I don't know. I guess it would probably be like Spike and Buffy had a kid and Xander and Willow had a kid and their two kids got together or something. Which is probably why the Sues are all shippy."

"But they're already sodding together, ain't they? Obviously that doesn't end the bloody fic," Spike grumbled, then stuffed his hands in his pockets. "An' what was up with the other less annoying kids? Why weren't they all bleedin' Sues or what-all?"

"They got stuck here because their authors got their stories deleted or never published. Daisy's author is too afraid to publish her, Adrian's got hers deleted because the reviewers didn't understand Adrian was homophobic so that he could change and become open-minded or something like that, and Tarley's here on a technicality. He was in a troll!fic so he was supposed to be a Stu but he actually isn't," Anne explained, counting off her fingers as she said each name.

"Tarley? Who the **FUNK** are his parents? Or was that the auburn chick?" Kurt asked, tilting his head.

"Tara got Riley pregnant," Anne explained quickly.

Spike frowned. "What about the auburn chit? Why she here?"

Anne opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again. "I don't know. She never said. She's really shy, I guess. She likes to draw, though. Or at least, I think she does. She was drawing when I went in there. Her and Tarley are dating, but I don't know if they're from the same fic."

Spike pursed his lips a little and tilted his head. "Curious 'bout her now, though. Bet she's smart, like her mum. Either that, or a sodding idiot like Xander." He scoffed and kicked at the cave floor a bit.

Anne noticed that Spike still seemed to be a little upset.

"I'm bored. And I wanna get the hell outta this place. Think maybe we could trick all the Sues into goin' to normal like last time?" Kurt aired after a second, letting out a long sigh afterwards.

Anne shrugged. "It's worth a shot. I mean, you'd just have to tell them all something they base their entire lives on is not true and have it actually be true. I mean, what you said, not what they believe."

"Personally, I'd rather kill every last one o' them. Got on my nerves, they did," Spike grumbled, then scoffed and shook his head. "I mean, did you see how many there were? At least a hundred. Maybe more. An' every last one o' them were Sues--that's what they're called, yeah?"

"Hell yeah, they're annoying. Fine as hell, though. Great kissers, too, apparently." Kurt got off of the wall and shrugged. "Thing is, how the **FUNK** you supposed to kill something that's, y'know, impossible to kill 'cause of the fact they're **FUNKY** Mary Sues?"

"Huh," Anne mumbled, her brows furrowing. Thoughts started pouring into her brain, but she couldn't piece them all together at the moment. "Well . . . I mean . . . they are invincible. So if we _do_ kill them, wouldn't that . . . You know, end the cliché? Fix this world? Send us home or into the next cliché?"

"Worth a shot," Kurt said with a shrug.

"But wouldn't that be murder?" Spike asked, his brows furrowed, despite the fact he was the one to bring up murder in the first place.

Anne tilted her head. "Oh, right . . ."

Kurt scoffed. "Nah. Most of 'em were born demons, and if they weren't, then they dated a demon and got turned. They're all soulless."

Anne gasped. "Of course! Because a lot of Suethors want it to have a super-fluffy ending so sweet it gives you cavities and what's better than the two lovers becoming immortal and living together forever?"

"Not all demons are evil, though," Spike pointed out.

Kurt laughed. "Yeah, right. Most of them have weekly sacrifices in the basement. Didn't you guys listen to the douches _at all?"_

"The only problem we have is figuring out how to kill them. There's only three of us. There are _hundreds _of them," Anne reminded unnecessarily.

"Well, ain't there any fics about those Sue tricks dying?" Kurt asked. "And we could always ask the other kids to help. Tarley, Daisy . . . Whatever the other two were called. Tara got _Riley_ pregnant? Did I hear that right?"

Spike furrowed his brows. "You got a point there, Kurt. Seven isn't much more, but hell, it's better than three. Think we could sneak back in there without Miss Edith catching us? An' I really can't sodding believe I just _worried_ about a _doll_ catching us."

Anne nodded. "Good plan. Let's get going."

* * *

Anne was perched on the ledge of a tree, reaching for the windowsill. She stretched her fingers outwards, then wobbled on the branch and made a shrieking noise that sounded like more of a squeak. "I've really got to get more athletic if I'm gonna be stuck here," she murmured, then reached for the window again.

"Just jump, luv," Spike whispered from inside the playroom.

She swallowed a lump of nervousness, then prepared to jump.

"Might not be a good idea Spike. She can't even walk down stairs properly without banging her head against every step and knocking herself out," Kurt said, his head popping into view.

"Shut up, dick. I only fell down the stairs once." She took a deep breath, then launched herself at the window.

She smacked into Spike's chest who wrapped his arms around her, the sudden weight of her making him stumble backwards and fall on his back. He grunted out and she hissed when a sharp pain ricocheted up her arm when she smacked her elbow against the floor. She realized that she was lying on top of him and he must have realized it too, because he was smirking at her.

She cleared her throat and put her hands on the floor, pushing off of him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest.

"Are you two gonna shag or get a move on?" Kurt asked.

"I wasn't--we were--he's just being . . ." Anne spluttered, ignoring the chuckle from Spike, then pushed herself off of him, knowing she was blushing. "It's the cliché. You--you fall on, uh, well I mean you don't, I do, because I'm a girl, and Spike's--well, he's Spike, so I'm probably gonna fall on him again, and it's a stupid cliché."

"Yeah, your heart wasn't poundin' a mile a minute either," he replied sarcastically as he stood up.

"Well let's get outta this room then. I mean, unless you're gonna cliché it up a bit more?" Kurt scowled.

As they walked out of the room, Anne glared at Spike. "You pulled me back on you."

"You knew the cliché, luv. Don't tell me you didn't plan it."

She scoffed. "Contrary to your _deluded_ belief, the world doesn't revolve around you, and girls don't spend every waking moment thinking of ways to get into compromising positions with you," she retorted.

He put his hand to his chest and feigned hurt. "Ouch, baby, I think that may have stung."

She couldn't help but smile at him, but she didn't want him to see it so she looked at the ground.

"You two done flirtin'?" Kurt asked ahead of them as he knocked on the playroom door with the OC's in it.

Anne scowled. "We weren't fl--" Spike draped his arm over her shoulder and cocked his head back a little, apparently doing it just to piss Kurt off.

Kurt rolled his eyes and faced the door as it opened. Daisy was the one who opened it, and she had a cigarette in her mouth. She looked at all three of them, tilting her head when she saw Spike putting his arm around Anne, then opened the door wider and gestured for them to come in. They walked in, Spike finally removing his arm, and Daisy plopped on a bean bag Anne hadn't noticed the first time she'd been in there.

Jessie and Tarley were curled up next to each other on a love seat in front of a TV, and Adrian was reading a comic, legs folded.

"So, you guys forget something?" Daisy asked, flicking ashes in the direction of Adrian.

"Bitch! You'll ruin the comic! This is the one where Cap gets shot! You can't just go around, ruining things that aren't--"

"I bought the bloody thing," she snapped, and Anne crinkled up her nose. It sounded odd to hear an American-accented girl say an English curse. "What y'all up to, then? Just poke 'round for a bit more magic Sue fun?"

"We're actually on a mission to kill them," Kurt stated plainly, as if that was something normal to say. "Wanna help? I know it's crap odds and all, but you might get to go out fightin'. And chop off some heads."

"We would, but we can't. It's pointless to even try, really," Adrian mumbled, flipping the page to the comic. "I mean, most of 'em have healing powers--not to mention super Sue strength and fighting abilities--and they're all part demons and soulless . . . But Miss Edith can heal with her hands, too, so she'd just sit on the sidelines and resurrect them even if you killed them. I've seen her do it."

Jessie looked around and stared at them all, as if she just realized they were there. "Well . . . Remember Bawn?"

"Dawn?" Kurt said, obviously assuming he misheard.

Jessie shook her head, "No, Bawn. Um . . . Buffy and Dawn's daughter?" For a second, nobody seemed to understand what she said. Then they all scrunched up their face in disgust. Jessie took that as understanding, apparently, because she continued. "Um . . . Well, she died. She . . . sacrificed herself to save the world. Drungelus tried to suck the world into hell, but Bawn's blood was the Key, so she had to die or something. It was kinda weird."

Tarley brushed Jessie's auburn hair from her face. "You're so cute when you're talkative."

She blushed, kissed him quickly, then turned back to the television.

"Right, so what? We've gotta find a way to make the world end? What if they don't wanna do it? They're soulless, remember? Why would they care if the world was ending?" Kurt pointed out.

Spike raised his hand briefly, as if gesturing to himself. "Not necessarily. I happen to like the world. And I did before I got my soul, too."

Anne tilted her head. "Well . . . I mean, we don't _have_ to actually end the world. We could just _tell_ them it's ending."

Spike raised an eyebrow at her. "Think it would work?"

She shrugged. "It's worth a try . . . But you're forgetting something."

Spike furrowed his brows. "What's that, luv?"

* * *

Anne burst into the room, breathing heavily. Kurt and Spike followed, both feigning hyperventilation. "Guys," Anne gasped, then stood up straighter, realizing she had thousands of eyes all on her. "The world! It's about to be sucked into hell!"

"Oh em gee, are you effing serious?!" Spru screamed, eyes sparkling madly.

"Totally serious," she said, making sure that her voice wobbled. "I just found out. Tarley was talking to Jessie, and he had a vision--"

"Tarley can have visions?" Xanya asked, apparently shocked.

Spike scoffed. "Well, yeah. He's from a troll!fic, you git," he said, as if that explained everything.

"Yeah, and he said that the only way to stop it would be if all the children of the Scoobies died. Jessie, Daisy, Adrian, and Tarley all offed themselves already."

Spuffy raised one eyebrow, smoking an ever-present cigarette, her red leather duster and long, blonde hair flowing in wind that only affected her at the moment. "Wot, so like, the world's endin' an' all of us 'ave to die?" She sounded suspicious.

Anne had expected one of them to be, so she had that covered. "Well, apparently, Ethan Rayne wants to pay the Scoobies back by forcing them to either die with the rest of all the living things on this planet, or live without their kids. It sucks. But . . . You guys, the entire world is going to die unless you off yourselves. Well, I mean, all the living things anyway. Demons and half-demons won't--but you can't let that happen. You'll die either way."

There was a pause, and then Spuffy started laughing. She sounded like a girly version of her father when she laughed. Once she started laughing, all of the hundreds of Sues did too. All of their laughs were overly cute and full of similes. Their laughs sounded like water trickling over pebbles, and like the wind whistling through the leaves of trees, and like birds chirping merrily in spring. It was giving Anne a headache.

Spuffy raised one hand and everyone shut up. "You daft li'l bint. Dint your brother tell you?"

"Well yeah of course I did," Kurt said. "But you're all good people, yeah? Saving the world. Your parents woulda done it."

"Do ya see our parents anywhere? We killed them a long time ago, mate," she told them, her blue eyes gleaming madly. "Well, 'cept Dad, o' course. And Dru, an' Buffy. Buffy was sired a long bloody time ago. Her an' Dad an' Dru are off rampaging Europe. Miss Edith is watchin' us 'til they get back."

Anne blinked a few times. "Wait, what?"

"We're all soulless 'alf-demons or full demons, yeah? We'll soddin' live. Think we give a damn 'bout all you lot?"

"Wait, lemme get this straight . . ." Anne began, shaking her head a little. "Every living thing on this planet is going to die unless you sacrifice yourselves, you know, a big and epic death and all, and you're not going to do it because . . . it doesn't affect you?"

Spuffy folded her arms and spat the smoked cigarette out of her mouth. "Got it in one, pet," she spat in her horrendously fake and thick Cockney accent.

"You're a selfish bitch!" Kurt exclaimed. "All of you are selfish assholes!"

Spuffy cackled. "Yes we are."

The house shook and the lights flashed eerily.

Spike, Anne, and Kurt all grinned.

Spuffy looked around to see that her fellow Sues and Stus were disappearing in a cloud of smoke, screaming shrilly in pain. The remaining Sues were running around in sheer panic, screaming, until they, too, disappeared.

"Oi! Wha's goin' on?" she demanded, grabbing Anne by her arms, glancing at the asymmetrical shape of it. "Are you aware o' the fact one o' your arms dunnit 'ave sleeves?"

"Uh . . . Yeah."

Her hands started to dissolve and she tumbled backwards staring at where her hands used to be. "Oi! I'm soddin' dyin'! Bloody 'ell!"

"Of course you are. Sues _must_ sacrifice themselves to save the world if the occasion arises. They _have_ to. And being selfish? A total flaw. And Sues can't have any of those, can they?" Anne quirked a smug eyebrow at Spuffy. "I wasn't really expecting all of you to die . . . but hey, go us."

Spuffy growled and charged at Anne, but she easily shoved her backwards and into the explosion of dust that used to be Spru.

"And by the way . . . your accent _sucks,"_ Anne told her, just before she poofed like the rest of them.

Kurt threw himself to the left and smacked to the floor with a thud and a loud grunt. After a second, he stood up, brushing himself off. "I think I missed you, Anne! You just gotta throw--" He looked around the room, and at Anne and Spike, who were both standing and staring at him funnily. "We didn't go to the next cliché."

Anne choked back a few chuckles. "Kinda noticed."

Kurt let out a harsh breath. "This is so **FUNKY** stupid. What the hell do we do now? We made 'em all die! Or not exist or whatever the hell. I don't wanna kill the cool ones."

Spike tilted his head at Anne. "Well . . . I think they all died. Miss Edith can heal with her hands, yeah? Maybe we gotta off her too. 'Fore she brings 'em back." He paused. "Well actually whether it helps or not I wanna kill the bitch anyway. All the times I had to have imaginary tea because of her porcelain ass."

Anne sighed. "Well, it's all we've got. Come on. I think she's slee--"

The door burst open and Miss Edith walked in. "What's going on? I heard scream--" She stopped short, then looked at Anne, Spike, and Kurt. "Son of a bitch!" she exclaimed, then raised her hands.

Spike launched himself at Miss Edith, and she fell over, hitting the floor. She shattered beneath him and he stood up, brushing off shards of porcelain, and sucking some blood off of his hand. "Now that's sodding cathartic," he muttered before sucking on his cut finger again.

"DAD!" Daisy screamed shrilly from the floor above them.

They all looked upwards, just as a bright flash of white light blinded them.

Anne recognized the sensation of falling right before she landed on something oddly shaped and softer than she expected. There was a loud crunch and she felt something wet pooling beneath her just as Spike and Kurt landed on her back. The liquid was warm, but everything else was freezing cold.

"Guys, get off," she muttered, her teeth chattering.

As soon as they got off of her, she stood up and looked at what she had landed on. A small child wearing an orange parka was on the ground, limbs bent in awkward angles, and blood staining the snow that surrounded him. She looked at her black shirt to see it was sticky with blood, as were her jeans, and her collarbone, as well.

"Wha . . . ?" she managed, nausea overtaking her. She had landed on a poor little kid, and now he was dead. She felt light-headed suddenly, and the freezing air surrounding her almost faded away from her mind.

"Oh my God! They killed Kenny!"

"You bastards!"

She shook her head and looked in the direction of the noise, to find that Kurt and Spike were already staring at three little boys . . . Well, technically, two little boys, and one fat tub of lard.

It all clicked into place.

"Oh, right," she said, no longer sickened with herself. After all, he'd be back soon anyway.

She vaguely remembered Kenny and Cartman on Halloween--which she realized was actually the day before to her--but staring at them now was really unnerving. They weren't cartoons. They looked as real as she did. All three boys had blue eyes, Kyle was skinnier than the other two as well as taller, but Stan had broader shoulders and a cute, round face.

"Where'd you guys come from? Are you visitors?" Stan asked, tilting his head.

Cartman rolled his eyes. "Visitors aren't _real_ you guys."

"Says the fat ass who got the anal probe," Kyle teased.

There was another flash of light, and Anne felt like she was falling again. When she smacked against the ground and felt Spike and Kurt hit her back, she let out a grunt. They rolled off of her and she slowly stood up, popping her back as she did so. "Good God . . . Twice in a row, that sucks."

"Hey, who are you?" Jennifer Aniston said.

Anne turned to face the actress, finding herself in a rather familiar apartment. "Huh? Who are you?"

"I'm Rachel, from _Friends,_ obviously," she introduced.

Yet another bright flash of light blinded her and she started falling again. She let out a groan when they landed on her, her stomach still spinning, her back starting to ache.

They all stood up, nursing sore spots on their bodies. Anne, being as she was always the on the bottom, was wincing the most. "You all right, luv?" Spike asked, looking Anne over, who still had Kenny's blood all over her, not to mention the bruise from Buffy's punch.

She shook her head. "No, not really. What about you guys?"

"I'm fine. Little nauseous. Then again, vampire, so . . ."

Kurt shrugged. "I get soft cushioning."

"Where did you guys come from? You can't Apparate on the grounds of Hogwarts," Hermione said from behind them.

All three turned to face her. She had one eyebrow raised, while Ron and Harry stared at them incredulously.

FLASH!

THUD!

"Ow," Anne whined.

"What the bloody hell is goin' on?" Spike asked, his lips moving across the back of her neck, seeing as he hadn't stood up yet.

Kurt hopped off of the pile and Spike helped Anne stand up. As they all stood up, Anne realized she was standing in a very familiar room, with a two equally familiar people staring at them with their eyes wide and their mouths opened.

"Aw, god _damn_ it," Anne murmured as she slapped a hand to her forehead.

"That was . . . unprecedented," Ianto said, brows furrowed in thought as he held a cup of tea halfway to his lips.

"They just appeared. Randomly," Gwen stated, tossing her sleek, black hair out of her wide eyes.

Anne and Kurt cleared their throats and glanced at each other.

Spike looked between Gwen and Ianto, noticing the evil glare Ianto was giving him. Well, Anne wouldn't classify it as an evil glare, but it was obvious that Ianto didn't like 'Spike' very much.

Ianto took a sip of his tea and looked away, muttering something that Anne didn't quite catch.

"What was that, Teaboy? Got somethin' to say?" Spike said loudly, straightening up slightly.

Ianto sighed. "What happened to your hair?" His attempt to sound pleasant failed miserably.

"It's called bleach, nitwit," Spike snapped, then grabbed Anne's wrist, glaring at Gwen and Ianto.

Gwen pointed wordlessly in a direction. "Over there," she said.

Spike nodded at her and started off in the direction she pointed, Kurt following them. "Sodding prat. Doesn't even know me, an' he thinks he can send those looks my way? Tell you what, weren't for this chip, I'd've slammed that tea cup right in his face."

Anne and Kurt just glanced quickly at each other. Spike was leading her roughly, eyes roving everywhere as he turned down the hallway. "Uh, Spike . . ." Anne began, seeing the back of Jack Harkness, someone she seriously doubted Spike wanted to see.

"Wish she would've given more specific directions," he muttered.

Jack turned around at the voice, and looked at Spike.

"Spike, you're gonna hate life in a moment, dude," Kurt said, turning his head, finding the wall beside him incredibly interesting at the moment.

"John?" Jack greeted with a devilish grin on his face as he walked towards them.

"What?"

"Your hair," he noted just as he stepped in front of Spike. He clutched Spike's jaw, and forced their mouths together, apparently not concerned with the fact Spike was holding onto Anne's hand.

His grip on her wrist tightened. She looked at his face to see his eyes were wide.

Spike shoved Jack away with his right hand, seeing as he was holding onto Anne's with his left. "What the _bloody_ hell is your problem?"

Jack blinked. "What?"

"What is it with men kissin' me today?"

"John, what's the mat--"

"What the hell? My name isn't sodding John, an' what's with the kissing? Can't you see a delectable lookin' chit on my arm?" He gestured at Anne with his other hand.

"Are you okay? Where'd you'd get that coat?"

Spike shook his head. "I'm gettin' outta here." He turned and started in the opposite direction, only to come face-to-face with John Hart--Spike's look-alike, with brown hair.

"Right, so I decided to stop by, and--" John began, then looked at Spike. "Oh, great, you could've warned me, Jack! Two of us?" He raised an eyebrow. "That actually sounds like loads of fun."

Spike blinked. "What the _hell_ is goin' on he--"

Anne closed her eyes tightly against the blinding white light, then groaned when her stomach flopped. She winced right before she hit the ground. It knocked all the wind out of her and for a few seconds she couldn't breathe, although she tried to suck in a lungful of air. She saw spots of white and black flashing in front of her eyes, and her chest ached.

". . . ight?" she heard Spike ask, and she realized that there was no pressure on her back.

"What?" she asked, slowly sitting up and wincing at the ache in her chest.

"Are you all right?" he repeated, helping her to her feet.

"Dude, we can't keep doin' this. It's all bam, bam, bam, flash, an' we're landin' on her, dude. We've gotta end this **POOP.** Do you have any idea what's goin' on Anne?"

"What was with that John guy?" Spike asked.

"I think we're in crossovers territory. Um, usually badly written crossovers simply exist to have two things crossover, or if there is an actor or something that is on both shows, the point is for them to meet. I think maybe that's why we're . . ." She looked around at where she was. ". . . on a spaceship?"

They heard a humming noise behind them and turned around to see Darth Vader, holding a light saber.

"Point is just to crossover stuff yeah?" Spike said, looping his arm through Anne's. Anne nodded. Spike randomly shoved Kurt.

"Oi, why'd yo--"

FLASH!

Anne squeezed her eyes shut, but when she hit the ground, it was softer than she expected it to be. There was a thud to her right. She was aware of an arm sliding around her back, and breath on her neck. She opened her eyes to see a pair of blue irises in front of her.

"Hello, Gorgeous," Spike greeted. "Twisted you so I was on bottom. Isn't there a cliché where you always land on me, no pain, only . . . tension?"

Her heart skipped a beat. He was paler than he normally would've been, the veins in his temple more pronounced, and his eyes sunken into his head a little. Still, despite his slightly ill appearance, she couldn't ignore the stirring in her stomach . . . or the slight bulge pressing into her body from underneath her.

"You gonna ride him like a horse or what?"

Anne quickly hopped off of Spike, and brushed off her clothes.

There was a puff of smoke, and the bleached girl appeared, waving a hand in front of her face. "Okay, we don't have much time," she stated, without preamble. "You're stuck in a crossover cliché. There are hundreds and thousands of possible media things you can crossover Buffy with. Doomsday just killed Superman a minute ago or so--" Anne just realized they were in a cartoon office, although they were not in a drawn form. "--and Lex Luthor is going to come into this room. Lex is going to see intruders--you guys--and grab Spike. Lex and Spike _cannot_ touch or both worlds will--"

"What are you three doing in here?" Lex demanded, his cartoon bald head gleaming in the light.

"Oh, bloody hell, what now?" Spike groaned.

"You," Lex growled, then started over to Spike, who promptly started backing up.

"Wish yourselves into the next cliché!" the bleached girl shouted.

"I wish we were in the next cliché!" Anne piped up as Lex outstretched a hand towards Spike.

There was a flash of light and Anne anticipated the fall, or at least the thwack of her hitting the ground, but it never came. The next thing she was aware of was that someone was holding her arm. She looked into the yellow eyes of a frizzy-haired vamp who looked like he had walked right out of the eighties rock scene--she had the feeling he was an AC/DC fan--and she was holding a stake in the hand of the arm he was grasping.

"Oh, bugger," she managed, in a voice that sounded exactly like Buffy's.

Then the vampire slammed the stake into her stomach.

* * *

A/N--Lex rules. In EVERY Superman-related thing, except Superman Returns for some reason . . . anyway . . . none of the TV shows mentioned in this chappie belong to me. Shout out to Doug Petrie, my fave BtVS writer EVAR liek omg wtf asl otp??//???!111!!!!!!1!!!1!! Oh and don't worry Raven will be appearing in a few chappies . . . Doug Petrie, you are a GOD! (All the writers of BtVS are great, of course, but I have a special place in my heart for Dougie. And Joss Whedon, too, for I am a Whedonite. Watch Dollhouse.)

**Next time: Can being stabbed with a stake ever be construed as fun? Why is Riley being weird? Does anybody besides me watch _Spaced?_**


	13. Fool For Fool For Love

**Previously on Sparkle, Sheen:**

**Spike lazily awoke, stretching his arms over his head. He let out a yawn and rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the weird gunk that accumalated on his eyelids each morning. He scratched his forehead and blinked the blurry vision away, realizing that his hair seemed to have grown overnight. His bleached hair hung past his shoulders, his bangs obscuring his vision. He tossed his hair with an awkward flick of his head, then looked down. Spike slept shirtless, and so it was very easy for him to notice that he now had breasts.**

**Ample, perky, C-cupped breasts.**

**"Oh, bullocks," he muttered in a feminine voice.**

**FLASH**

**Wilson plopped onto the couch beside House and handed him a beer. "You do realize you're writing on the wrong fanfic again, right?" he aired.**

**House blinked at him. "Who the hell are you talking to?"**

**FLASH**

**Ashes Falling stared at her balding professor, bored out of her skull, and pretended to write notes on her laptop while she was actually adding onto her parody that she hadn't updated in forever and a day. "Blah, blah, blah, low air pressures and carbon footprints," her professor droned, and she nodded, tryign ot muster up the most agreeable, serious face she could muster. "Global warming and climate change," he added with a thoughtful nod and a careful look in her direction, completely unaware that she wasn't paying attention at all.**

**"Yes, exactly," she agreed dully with him, then pretended to look at the notes he had displayed for the class to see so that it looked like she was copying them.**

**"Insolation and albido," he continued on with a warm smile and a nod, then chuckled at a joke he attempted to tell and Ashes Falling dryly chuckled as well.**

**And now . . .**

Chapter 12: Fool For Fool For Love

_Anne_

It was the aching, stinging sensation in my stomach that woke me. It was like I'd been stabbed in the gut.

Oh, right.

I was shirtless--I knew that. I could feel someone working on my wound.

My eyes fluttered opened and I nearly vomited. Not because of the pain--although I was sure that had something to do with it--but because of the fact I was only in my bra and pants, and Riley bloody Finn was leaning above me. I mean, Riley was a good guy, but I had never liked him. And now I was shirtless underneath him.

"About time you woke up," he muttered, swabbing around my wound with something. "Well, you woke up earlier, but you were kinda out of it." He looked at my bra, then got off of the bed we were on.

"What's . . . huh?" I said (ever so eloquently.)

He looked at me as he rummaged through my closet. "Dude, you got stabbed with your own stake. I didn't get the chance to kill the bastard, but you're good, right? Slayer powers or whatever."

I blinked, remembering being stabbed by the smelly vampire from the night before. Being stabbed really sucked. I'm not going to lie, it was probably the worst pain I'd ever been in. I remembered running off, but it was all kinda blurry after that. I touched my forehead, then looked over at the mirror, to see Buffy.

"What the--" I cut myself off when I saw Riley looked at me strangely. "I just, um . . . forgot." I looked away from the mirror. "Um, could you hand me a shirt or something, Riley? We _are_ in my room . . ."

"Well, yeah. I was just gonna hand you this shirt or whatever, then do the whole bandage thing. Unless you want it all open and oozing and infected."

I furrowed my eyebrows. Someone certainly didn't know how to write Riley worth a crap. "Um, yeah."

I was quiet as he handed me my shirt--the tan one from the episode--and he put a bandage over my wound. I was normally talkative, but I couldn't think of anything to say to Riley of all people. I had never liked him. I hadn't started watching the show until, well . . . ironically enough . . . _Fool For Love_. So I had the disadvantage of seeing him when he was a full-on prat, and never when he was actually a decent guy. Well, until I watched the full series, of course.

He tried to get me to talk, but I could only think of a few words to say to him.

"Dude, he practically gutted you. You should probably go see a doctor or somethin'."

"Yeah, that would make my mom upset. Can't do it," I said, and I knew it sounded rehearsed.

"Yeah, you're spilling blood and innards all over your bed, but oh no, you can't piss off Joyce. Ah, well. You've got slayer healing powers, and a boyfriend with medical training, blah, blah."

What the hell? I furrowed my brows. Whoever was writing the fic I was stuck in (probably Susan) couldn't write Riley. It wouldn't surprise me if he started beating me up just so the author could bash him. God, out of all the episodes that had to be rewritten, why my favourite? Why fix something that was perfect as it was?

The door burst open and Dawn entered. "Oh em gee Buffy like totally mom is so coming and I wanted to warn you."

Joyce popped her head in. "Blah, blah, I'm gonna mention the grocery list which is actually me hinting that I need to talk to Buffy alone about my cancerous tumour, later." She shut the door behind her.

"I'm a simplistic teenager without a brain cell and therefore completely disregard the obvious hint. I mean, why would I care that Mom totally didn't ask me what groceries I needed, although I'm so totally out of tampons and I need to plug up a leaky faucet between my--"

"Whoa! Thanks, Dawnie! Like I needed to know that you're re-enacting the scene from _The Shining_ with the elevator door," Riley snapped.

I blinked, staring at Riley. Wow. This _Fool For Love _rewrite sucks. I mean, the episode was perfect! Now some thirteen year old _bitch_ was ruining it for me! My favourite episode! Why? Dammit, why?! I was so going to kick Susan's ass!

"So what are you disinfecting?"

"If I show you something will you promise not to tell?" I said, still looking at Riley in confusion. She nodded and I lifted my shirt a little to show her the bandage.

"Oh, cool!"

"You shoulda seen it with the bandage off. It was all gaping and bleeding and stuff."

"It was pretty cool," I conceded, smiling fondly as I thought of Kurt. Kurt and I always liked to take pictures of our injuries. Especially if they were nasty. I looked at Riley and smirked. "Well, I mean . . . we could remove the bandage and put it back on if . . . No, never mind."

"Do we have a camera?" Riley asked, looking at Dawn.

"Oh my God!" she squealed. "I so totally do!" She tilted her head. "Uh . . . why?"

"Pictures," Riley and I said at the same time.

Dawn bolted out of the room.

I looked at Riley, who was doing his Captain America goofy grin. "I've never gotten a picture of a stab wound. Aw, lame we didn't have a camera last night, huh? I mean, I woulda made sure you weren't like dead or whatever, but . . . Well, no use complainin' about it now."

I nodded excitedly. "Well, yeah, you're not like a dick or anything. Okay, so what, are we gonna do like a full body shot, so you can see all of me and I'll lift up my shirt, or are we gonna zoom in on it so you just see the stab wound?"

Riley stood up and shrugged. "We could probably do both. We'll just hide the pictures from Joyce."

Okay, so Riley's characterization was way off, but suddenly he was far cooler than he ever was in the show. I stood up quickly, excitedly, then winced when I felt the sharp pain in my side. "Ow! Damn, that hurt. Okay, so no sudden movements. Duh."

"Light's better over here," Riley muttered, gesturing over at the other side of my room. "Ready to do this, Buff?"

"Yeah, soon as Dawnie pops in, let's do it."

"Wanna put on some makeup and do your--" He glanced at me. "Oh, never mind. You look fine."

"That can't possibly be. I was just sleeping and was completely out of it." I glanced at the mirror, and saw that my--well, Buffy's hair--was perfect and I had great makeup. "Oh. Go me. Good with the luck."

* * *

Even though I was in pain, I couldn't help but laugh. I had modelled and they took pictures of me and my wound, and suddenly we were taking pictures of all of us. Since Riley was the tallest and therefore had the longest arms, he was the one holding the camera in front of us.

"No, no, dude, dude, your elbow's in my--dammit, ouch!" I growled, glaring at Dawn, although I was grinning.

She rearranged her sitting position and the mattress moved underneath us. "God, for a tiny little chit, you can throw your weight around," Riley muttered. "Now all you tricks gotta stay still so we can take the picture." I looked at him, rolling my eyes a little.

He clicked the button and the flash of the camera blinded me.

"I think that was the last one," I said, sitting up, still grinning like mad.

"We should totally get them developed," Dawn exclaimed.

"No, really?" I rolled my eyes.

"Shut up, Buffy." She slapped my shoulder. She took her camera and left the room.

I watched her shut the door, then stood up. "Well, I should probably head over to Magic Box. Gotta talk about training and stuff."

"Yeah. I'll patrol tonight with the Gang while you go talk to Sp--" I glanced at him. "Uh, Giles."

I smiled at him. "Uh-huh . . . Kurt?" I said slowly.

He shrugged. "Pretty much. So you Anne then?" I nodded. "When did you figure it out?"

"Oh . . . Probably during the second picture. You?"

"Meh, just a few minutes ago. I'm not that perceptive. Thank God it was before either of us kissed the other 'cause then I'd have to shoot myself in the head. Incest is gross. Wanna just skip talkin' to Giles and head over to Spike's?"

"Why not? This episode is screwed up already. Maybe I can get it back on track."

"Dude, live a little, trick."

I raised my eyebrow at him. "It is so weird to hear Riley call me a trick."

"So weird to know you're my sister when you're wrapped up in a hot little Sarah Michelle Gellar package."

"Ew," I grumbled. "Don't call me hot."

He chuckled as I turned around to leave my room, but then he grabbed my arm. I turned to face him. "By the way, I break up with you. Sorry, Buffy, but we're different people, and it just won't work between us. But I hope we can still be friends!" he simpered, batting his eyes like a little schoolgirl. We both chuckled as he let go of my arm. "Cool. This is a rewrite, Susan is a spuffy shipper, now you're totally free to snog Spike."

I smiled. "Dude, you rock."

* * *

". . . oh right, sittin' in a dark corner with a creature you loathe, diggin' up past uglies 'cause you're fine," Spike replied sarcastically.

I sighed and held my forehead in my hands. I had pretty much memorized the episode ages ago, but I was beyond irritated now. Maybe it was because of all the extreme messing around I did with the picture taking and the laughing, but my side was practically throbbing now. Apparently, narrating along with the episode was completely different than living it with a sharp pain in your side.

I knew the next line.

I just couldn't remember it at the time.

Apparently I had moaned in pain and grabbed his attention because I felt Spike's calloused fingers on my bare arm. I looked up at him to see that he was genuinely concerned. It was just a flash, but I recognized it. As soon as our eyes met he pulled away from me. "I'm not narratin' on an empty stomach here."

I smiled at him, then shook my head a little bit. "Were you born this big a pain in the ass?"

"What can I tell ya baby . . . I've always been bad."

Cut to the scene of him being a total loser in England. Or at least, it would have, if I were watching the episode, but I wasn't. Still, the irony of his statement wasn't lost on me, and I couldn't help but snort. Come on, who wouldn't laugh? Here he was, talking like he'd popped out of the womb with a cigarette in his mouth and a leather duster on his shoulders, when I knew he had practically been the exact opposite.

"What?" he demanded, his jaw clenched. It was so different, seeing him healthier, when just a few hours ago he'd been weak and pale and sickly.

I just shook my head. "Nothing. It's just . . ." I shrugged. "Never mind."

"No, what? Think I'll tell you how I offed the other two bints if you keep sniggerin' at me? Sod that. Hope you don't get stabbed again any time soon." He stood up to leave, but I reached over the table and grabbed his arm.

Bad move.

I gasped in pain and touched my side.

"You all right, luv?" he whispered as he sat back down.

"Word to the wise, Spike--don't get stabbed."

"Wasn't plannin' on it," he chuckled.

I looked at him, and stared into his blue eyes. Even though I would never attempt to make my favourite episode better by rewriting it, I had fantasized about it going differently--about how I would have reacted in Buffy's position. I was pretty sure everybody had imagined that, at least once.

Even though we were sitting on opposite ends of the table, it felt like he was right in front of me. Something about the way he stared at me made the Bronze disappear. There were only two fictional characters I would ever say I 'loved' and I'd already somewhat had a sorta kinda chance with Snape, although that had been forced. Stupid Marriage Laws, and the entire time I knew he loved Lily. I'd had the chance to use a situation to my advantage and manipulate it, but in the end, I'd made it so he ended up marrying Lily and living happily ever after. Surprisingly, it hadn't been that hard.

But there were times I regretted it.

I knew I was making a mistake in letting him stare at me like that. And normally I would've looked away, but I was in Buffy's body, and somehow, that made me feel less . . . I dunno, under the limelight?

He tilted his head. "What's your favourite word?"

"Hmm?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Your favourite word, luv. What is it?"

"Oh, um, it's melancholy," I told him.

He leaned back against his chair and smirked. "Tell you what--sod the spicy buffalo wings. I'll tell you what you wanna know . . . if you dance with me."

And here came the AU part of the rewrite.

Oh, yeah, sure, dancing with him would end the cliché and move me to the next one. But that wasn't the reason I smiled at him and said; "Okay."

He slowly stood out of his chair and took my hand. He pulled me gently out of my chair and led me to the dance floor. As _soon_ as the both of us made it to the dance floor, the music changed into a slow, yet grunge-y, song, and he moved to put his hands on my waist. His hands brushed my wound, and I hissed.

"Oh, right, sorry . . ." He put his hands on my shoulders, then slowly slid them down my bare arms. Except they were Buffy's. Oh, right. My hairs stood on end. I should have probably shoved him away. I knew I was messing with fire. I could easily fall completely in love with him. I already loved him as a character.

He held my hands and pressed his chest against mine, and we swayed slowly. Our eyes never left the other.

The world slowed. As stupid as that sounded and cliché, my world slowed, the music faded . . .

He leaned forward and pressed his mouth so close to my ear that I nearly felt his lips against my earlobe. "Makes sense a slayer's favourite word would be melancholy," he whispered, making the back of my neck tingle.

My heart was thudding so hard in my chest, I definitely knew that he heard it. He was a vampire, after all.

He moved his face so it was right in front of mine. His lips were literally centimetres away. Nothing was going through my mind but a mantra of 'oh my god don't kiss him you'll muck it up no screw it kiss him anyway' and I swallowed.

"Shame I already know Buffy's favourite word," he murmured with an evil grin. I blinked at him, realizing what he meant by that. "Come on, luv, I'm a poet. I'll get around to askin' what your favourite word is eventually. I won't shag a girl unless I know her favourite word. O' course I know Buffy's."

Maybe it was because he was still a centimetre from me, but I really didn't remember when I told him that. "Um . . . When--"

"You said effulgent was every fangirl's favourite word on the way to Buffy's durin' the roses an' speech cliché. You told me that your favourite word was melancholy then."

"Well, you must've known I wasn't Buffy if you asked what my favourite word is."

He pulled his head away from me slightly, but his eyes were still level with mine because of the way he tilted his head. "You laughed when I said I'd always been bad. Then when I asked if you were okay, you didn't get the case of the bitchies. And that was mildly out of character, me sayin' bitchies an' all. Cor."

I shrugged the tiniest bit, realizing that he was right. Spike knew Buffy pretty well. Of course he'd notice I wasn't her, especially if he was already aware that the world was mucked up.

"So what now? You're the fanfic writer, how does this uh . . . rewrite go?" he asked, his fingers entwining with mine.

"I don't read _Fool For Love_ rewrites because this episode is perfect," I told him.

He chuckled. "If you had to rewrite it, what would you do?"

"Well . . ." I smiled at him and I knew it probably looked flirtatious. Okay, so I randomly appeared in an actress's body and was now super-sexy. Uh, _duh_ I flirted with him. "Riley and I broke up this morning . . ."

"Did you now?" Well, if I didn't catch the innuendo in _that_ sentence I was deaf.

"Well he was actually Kurt so . . ."

"That's disturbing."

"So . . . How about . . ." I tilted my head a little and smiled. "We have a date? Cecily, poetry, China, seventies Sid Vicious super-shaggable subway station look you had goin', and Dru dumped you because you loved Buffy. Have the episode practically memorized. Really don't need to hear your life story 'cause I already know it. Let's have some food, let's drink a beer or two . . . Uh, you're buying or stealing that or whatever . . . play some pool . . . whatever. Sound like a plan?"

He lifted my hand and pressed his lips to my knuckles, raising one eyebrow as he did so. "I'm for it."

* * *

"Okay, okay, okay," I said, through my chuckles, "you played strip poker with _Nazis?"_

He opened the door to the back alley for me, and I smiled and touched his shoulder in gratitude. "Well, yeah, wouldn't you?"

"Uh, no, Nazis scare the **POOP** outta me. If I randomly see a Swastika, I can pretty much guarantee I'll have a sodding nightmare and boy is that weird to hear Buffy say sodding."

"In that case, there's this jacket I need to show you," he told me, twirling the pool cue he decided to take.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, I know, you ate a Nazi. By the way, you were responsible for a week of nightmares," I accused, jabbing a finger into his chest.

"Why the hell're you afraid of Nazis, pet? Blue eyes, blonde hair, cute, small button nose--perfect Aryan chit. Well, I meant you, not . . . not Buffy."

"Well, I heard Sarah Michelle Gellar was Jewish, so yeah, pretty much gathered that. And I know I'm the perfect Aryan. I've been told that before. By white supremacists."

He looped his arm through mine. "Sarah who?"

"Never mind. But yeah, imagine me--I'm sitting there, watching _Angel_, and bam! Spike walks in, with a **FUNKY** Swastika on his arm!" I eyed the pool cue warily. "And why did you take that?"

He twirled it with his left hand casually. "I think it's nifty. You know, Hitler wasn't very well-endowed."

I burst out laughing even harder than I had already been. "You know what, I'm really not at all surprised by that," I revealed, leaning my head against his shoulder.

"You know what would make this date perfect?"

I tilted my head so I could look at him. "What?"

"Hot cocoa with li'l marshmallows."

"Seriously, you're bloody awesome."

* * *

We walked into the house, and as soon as we stepped in, Riley (technically, Kurt) jumped in front of us. He was shirtless, with a bandana tied around his head. He was holding an invisible (probably shotgun) to our faces.

Spike blinked, then did a weird slow motion dive to the side.

Riley pretended to cock the shotgun slowly. "Cha-chink," he grumbled in a slow voice.

"Ssssssssssppiiiiiiiikke!" Dawn screamed shrilly, tossing a grenade in his direction. He 'caught' it deftly.

"Duuuuuuuuuuucccccckkk!" Spike yelled.

I slow-motion ran towards the living room, going "ba-bum, ba-bum" as I ran. As soon as I dove slowly beside Spike, I pulled out two magnums as Riley cocked the shotgun again.

Spike yanked the clip of the grenade out with his teeth, then tossed it at Riley, whose eyes followed it slowly. He ran into the living room, and at the same time, we all yelled "BOOOOM!"

He pretended to fly through the air slowly, then landed on his side. All four of us shared looks, then started scrambling for the shotgun that Riley had dropped. We got into a small slap fight, but then I grabbed it and managed to get to my feet, despite that Riley was clutching my ankle.

I turned around and pointed it right at Riley. His eyes widened. I cocked the shotgun. "Click," I said, staring at it in surprise.

Riley ducked and grabbed the two magnums I'd forgotten on the ground, and he lifted them. He pointed one at me and the other at Dawn. "BAAAM!" Dawn fell to the floor, dead. He smirked at me. "BAAAM!"

I hit the ground, clutching my bleeding chest. Spike grabbed Riley's neck and broke it, helping him fall to the ground slowly as I bled from my bullet wound.

Spike knelt beside me. "Anne, I . . . I always wanted to tell you . . ." he sniffled, wiping away invisible tears as he pulled me into his arms.

"Spike . . . I . . ." I coughed up blood, and convulsed slightly. "I . . ." I let out a long breath and went limp in his arms.

"Nooooo!" He put me on the ground, and stared up at the ceiling. "Damn you Riley! DAMN YOU!"

After that, we all stood up and dusted ourselves off. "So . . . Hot chocolate?" I suggested.

"Sounds good," Riley agreed.

Just then, Joyce stuck her head into the living room. "Oh, by the way, I conveniently don't have cancer anymore. Little marshmallows anyone?"

Riley, Spike, and I all shared looks. "Dude, this rewrite kicks ass," Riley noted, pumping his fist in the air.

* * *

I sat on the back porch with Spike, holding my mug of hot cocoa in my hands. "I'm pretty sure this woulda made a horrible episode, but I had loads of fun," I revealed, smiling at him.

He nodded. "Yeah, same here, luv. Much better this time 'round. I didn't get wads o' cash, though . . ." He raised an eyebrow at me and one side of his mouth twitched into a smirk.

I scoffed and shook my head slightly. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, handing it over. "It'll probably disappear anyway, but if you want it, you can have it."

He stuck it in his duster pocket, then took a long drink from his mug of hot chocolate. Maybe it was because of how stressful my life had been recently, or because it was a cliché, but it was probably the best cup of hot chocolate I'd had in my entire life. Buffy and I were the same height, but she was much thinner than I was, and (let's be honest) prettier, too. But I did have better breasts. And a fuller mouth, too. All in all, this cliché? Really kinda awesome.

"So what next? No flashing lights, so the cliché obviously didn't . . ." he trailed off and stared ahead of himself, his brows furrowed. I looked into the direction his eyes were, thinking maybe Raven showed up or something.

When I didn't see anything, I nudged his shoulder with mine. "Everything okay?"

He blinked rapidly, then looked at me. "What? Right, yeah, luv, everythin's fine. Got me a cuppa, a date with the love of m'life, o' course I'm fine. I just . . . I dunno, I just . . . got a bit light-headed is all." He sipped his drink, his brows still furrowed. Obviously it bothered him.

"So . . . Yeah, I dunno what else there is to do. I know about your life story, we went on that date, we're on the back porch . . . Susan is a spuffy shipper, so . . ."

"Who's Susan?" Spike asked

"Oh, you know, the author of all the fanfics we're in and the creator of that Raven bitch . . . Who was in your past and I wouldn't know about it because you didn't talk about it in that episode because she doesn't actually exist. Hey, maybe that's it. Do you . . . still know it?"

"Yeah. It's a bit like a dream . . . You know when you wake up you realize it isn't real but it's still a part o' your memory? But it's gettin' clearer now . . ." He shook his head, then cleared his throat. "Uh, yeah, I know it. We were best friends, did everythin' together . . . Apparently I was in love with her but thought I was in love with Cecily and didn't realize it until Drusilla sired me. So I went an' found Raven to sire her. She always had bruises and scabs, so I assumed that her dad abused her an' her mum too, so I killed them. She often stayed at her uncle's house, so it was prob'ly him . . . Anyway, when I was off torturin' the mum and dad, Drusilla was tying up Raven and torturin' her. When I came out, I decided to sire Raven, so I bit her throat, but while I was biting her she bit my neck too an' started drinkin' the blood so I figured it was the vampire urges rearin' up.

"Anyway, next mornin', she's gone. Don't see her until five years later, after I'd fallen for Dru, an' she comes in, shags Drusilla, and Dru was hummin' about it for weeks, an' so then I got angry and beat the hell outta her. She killed a slayer later that year, so I had to show her up an' kill one as well, then she killed two more an' then I only killed Nikki. Was gonna kill Buffy an' make it even, but . . . Anyway, throughout the years we've hated each other, beatin' the hell out of each other, her shagging my girlfriend just to rile me up, an' I go and kill whoever she's dating, which is usually some idiot poet."

"She only sleeps with poets?" I asked slowly, raising my eyebrow at him.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, an' I'm apparently completely unaware o' the fact she's in love with me. She refuses to admit to herself she likes me, though."

"Her uncle was her watcher, who constantly raped her, and she was a slayer. That's why she hated you after you sired her, because she thinks you didn't have the intention of siring her, which is why she bit you and drank your blood . . . Except for she told Kurt that a bloody wound fell on her mouth. Yeah, so . . . that's her side, just so you know."

He scoffed. "That's a horrible sodding plot. I bet we were supposed to end up together at the end o' the fic, too."

"Knowing Susan, probab . . ." I trailed off, realizing that maybe Susan wasn't shipping spuffy, but Spike/OC. I shifted uncomfortably. "Uh, maybe Susan doesn't want you to end up with Buffy, but with . . . Uh, Raven?"

"Well, I won't do it. She annoys me."

I laughed, then sipped my drink again, still thoughtful.

"Hey, babe, can I ask you a question?" I nodded and looked at him expectantly as he tilted his head. "Why couldn't Lex touch me? Why would it cause the world to implode or whatever the hell she was sayin' would happen bloody cor mate sod wanker?"

"Oh, the guy who plays you played him."

"Oh, right . . . good thing that John chap didn't touch me, then."

Somehow, we had moved so that we were sitting so close the sides of our arms and legs were touching. We were still looking at each other, and he was smirking at me so I know he was aware of it as much as I was.

"Hmm, well . . . tellin' you didn't end the cliché," he noted ominously after a few seconds of slightly awkward silence. He tilted his head so that out faces were closer. "Maybe we're supposed to kiss . . ."

I chuckled. "Yeah, right," I muttered, then turned my head so I could drink my hot cocoa.

Only to have his mouth bump against my cheek.

I realized that I had turned my head at the exact second he'd leaned in to kiss my mouth, hence with the cheek bumping. The fact that he had seriously been about to kiss me (although I was in Buffy's body) made my heart skip a beat.

"Uh, sorry, I just thought you'd--" he grumbled, suddenly moving to stand up.

"Spike, I didn't know you were gonna kiss me," I quickly explained, putting my hand on his arm. "I thought you were just--well, you know, you're flirty, and you kid around a lot, I didn't think--"

He sat back down on the porch. "Right, Buffy, I'm gonna sodding joke about tryin' to ki--"

"Buffy?"

He blinked a few times. "I meant Anne."

I furrowed my brows. All day long he'd been calling me Anne. It just seemed weird he'd revert to calling me Buffy now--although I guess I did look like her and I did just shun him (accidentally) so it was probably a Freudian slip.

"Spike, I just turned my head at the wrong time is all," I promised.

He scoffed again.

Sighing, I grabbed his head and forced him to look at me. He looked about ready to yell at me, but then his face softened. His eyes ticked to my lips and I smiled. One kiss was okay. It wouldn't screw anything up. I could handle my emotions with just one kiss--especially if it was to end a cliché.

"Damn," came a coughing voice in the backyard. I turned and saw the bleached girl, waving smoke away from her face. I instantly hated her. I was about to kiss Spike, and she ruined it, although I guess it was probably for the best. Dealing with Snape was hard enough; I would probably become a total head case having to fall for Spike and then leave him, and go home to reality. "You know, this smoke is really irritating. You'd think I'd get used to it, but--"

"So did you want something?" I interrupted.

Apparently I sounded as irritated as I felt because she looked at me strangely, and Spike chuckled beside me. She brushed her bangs from her face and nodded. "Yeah, actually. Look, while you've been stuck doing cliché after cliché, Raven's been in her fanfic screwing it up. Apparently I had the . . . Uh, the um . . . I misunderstood the situation. She sent you back in time and when the statue broke you went right back into, uh . . . Another cliché because I thought that's what . . . Uh, was going on, but apparently there's an actual fic you need to be in . . . and I think Raven knew that because . . . Well, she's been wreaking havoc. The world is imploding, and you guys are . . . off doing all this cliché stuff."

I blinked. "Wait, so . . . We're not supposed to be dealing with cliché after cliché, we're supposed to be dealing with an actual fic just like last time? Then how on earth have we been--"

"Well, when you wished to break the statue, I thought that . . . Well, that it was the cliché itself you were in, I didn't realize Raven used her powers to send you back in time . . . So, uh, accidentally, I was the one that thrust you into the cliché after cliché bit . . . Because, um, when Raven was attacking you and Spike very nearly burst into flames she reached forward, but it wasn't her who . . . Uh, sent you . . . To the speech cliché . . ."

I must have been giving her an extremely dirty look, because she trailed off. All right, so maybe I was being a bitch and overreacting, but wait until you're stuck in the Buffyverse with a Mary Sue you hate and find out while you were off dealing with crappy clichés you should have been in the actual fanfic that was causing the world to implode.

"Okay, so what now?" I snapped.

She opened her mouth to explain, but that was when a bright flash of light blinded me, and I realized that I was being thrust into the next cliché.

* * *

The first thing Anne heard was a very loud and angry sounding; "Slayer!"

She blinked a few times, seeing Spike and Harmony on the other side of the room. There was a bald doctor with glasses looking between them warily, and Riley was standing beside her. He was breathing heavily and sweating profusely. Oh, and they were in a sort of medical classroom type-thing.

"It's a funny thing, Slayer. I swear I was just thinking about you," Spike greeted cockily.

The doctor tried to run past her, but she grabbed him and pushed him aside gently. "Uh . . . Stay there, 'cause we're gonna need you," she said, still disoriented. Was Spike still aware? Where was Kurt? A horrible thought struck her, and she turned back to the doctor. "You're not Kurt, are you?"

"I thought I was being rather courteous, if you must know my opinion," he stated haughtily.

"I'm in a pretty _curt_-ish uh . . . mood," Riley muttered. "What with the . . . hammering heart and the . . . heart attack comin' my way. Yeah, I'm very . . . uh, curt." He rubbed his chest and swayed a bit. "This one sucks."

Anne nodded, piecing together that Kurt was, once again, Riley.

Spike looked between them, as if confused. "Uh . . . So, I got the chip out," he stated, although it sounded like he was bored with the information.

Anne sighed and half-heartedly got into a fighting position. "Which means I get to kill you," she said, knowing the line, and not even really caring that it sounded rehearsed.

"You get to try," Spike retaliated. He swayed dizzily for a second, then shook his head, as if trying to get a thought out of it. "Suit up, Harm."

They both vamped out.

Harmony accidentally shot Riley in the leg.

"Ow! Son of a bitch! Are you stupid? God! That hurt you stupid **PUNT!"** Riley yelled, then ran at Harmony, proceeding the bash her into counters and walls. Harmony was attempting to fight back, but Riley (Kurt) was in a rage, and beating the hell out of her. Anne (Buffy) watched with mild interest, Spike apparently doing the same.

After a few seconds, Riley stepped away. "Oh, come on, you gotta fight back. You're making me look like a total dick here, beatin' on a chick. Come on, ho, fight back!"

"Oh, but I'm a total loser bimbo who can't fight worth a crap, and readers think it's funny when I get the crap beat outta me," she aired sadly, scuffing at the floor. "Sometimes it sucks being mentally deficient and annoyingly sexy. Or is it sexily annoying?"

Riley blinked at her a few times. Spike and Anne shared a look, then shrugged before turning back to them. After a second, Riley sighed and looked upward. "Fans don't hate you as much as they hate me. You are actually kinda funny and used for comic relief. Fans hate the hell outta me. A lot. In fact, this chapter would probably get more reviews if you punched me right in the dome and knocked me out. Oh, but not kill me. And reviews are the most important thing, right?"

Harmony nodded. "Okay." She ran at him and decked him as hard as she could. He stumbled backwards, but didn't get knocked out, apparently. She winced. "Oh, sorry. I totally thought you would get knocked out."

He rubbed the side of his face. "Nah, it's cool. I'm gonna lie down and pretend I got knocked out. You wait on the steps for Spike and Buffy to finish their crap." He went over and lied on the floor, gently placing the metal curved stand on top of him, in the same position Riley had been in on the episode.

Harmony went over to the stairs and waited patiently.

Anne looked back at Spike. "Okay, let's get on with the fighting," she said, then walked over to him.

Rolling her eyes, she moved to punch him half-heartedly. Spike blocked her easily, sniffing in a bored way. "Blah, blah, I knock you down," he muttered.

Anne causally lied down on the ground.

He climbed up on top of the operating table. "At long last," he sighed, then hopped back down casually, walked over to her, knelt down so that his body was covering hers.

And suddenly, it wasn't so boring anymore.

She was on the ground, with Spike's arms on either side of his head. His duster was missing, and for some reason, his eyes were bluer than they normally were. He seemed to have realized that it was somehow different as well, because he blinked, and his eyes ticked over to her mouth.

Anne's breathing was coming in short, ragged breaths, her (now small) breasts touching Spike's chest every time she breathed in.

He leaned in, his forehead pressing against hers. He smiled at her, then leaned down, his mouth so close to her neck she could almost feel his lips touching her skin. She closed her eyes and arched against him unwillingly, her hands clutching the back of his black t-shirt. She felt rather than heard him chuckle against her skin, which sent chills up her spine.

Instead of biting her, he open-mouth kissed her neck, and she moaned pleasurably. He bit down on her moistened skin with his blunt teeth and she clutched him closer, not caring that he was rocking his pelvis against hers slowly.

And then Riley let out a loud yell of pain. "Dude! I'm totally dyin'! For real!"

Spike pulled away from her neck sharply, his dark eyes meeting hers. He hopped off of her and grabbed his jacket, running out of the medical facility as he put it on.

Anne, no longer dazed because she knew her brother was dying, hopped to her feet. "Doc! Fix him! If he dies, I will tear out your throat, got me?" she yelled shrilly, storming over to the doctor and yanking him to his feet.

"Yeah, okay, jeez!" he replied, pulling his arm out of his grasp. "Take a chill pill, would ya?"

* * *

One second, Anne had been talking to Riley (technically Kurt) about how they actually weren't supposed to be in the whole cliché-after-cliché nonsense but in an actual fic (something that Kurt seemed be just as irritated with as she was) and the next, she was standing in front of a crypt door.

"What the hell?" she muttered, looking around at the cemetery. It was mid afternoon. "Is this the next cliché?" she wondered aloud. She looked down and recognized the red leather pants and white tank immediately. "Oh! It's the _dream_ sequence!" She grinned and felt her cheeks burn.

She knocked on the door, then looked downward, blushing. After a second, she burst into the crypt. Spike stood out of the chair, wearing the silky black button-up shirt that bared the top of his chest. They stared at each other, and she had to wonder if he was aware of the fact she was still Anne.

She cleared her throat and shuffled awkwardly, her heart pounding in her ears. She swallowed nervously, and tossed her newly straight hair out of her eyes. "Um . . ." she said, her voice wavering.

He smiled briefly. "About time you show up. It's been nearly six hours," he said in a low voice, taking a slow step forward, his eyes fixed on her.

"It . . . Um, I would've been here sooner if I wasn't busy cleaning up your mess," she replied, almost breathless, taking a small step forward.

"My mess? The mess was yours, Slayer, yours and the boy's." Despite the fact his voice sounded intense and angry, he had a smile on his face and his blue eyes were bright.

She took in a few deep breaths, both of them still walking towards each other. Finally they were standing in front of each other, her body shaking. Her mouth was tingling in anticipation.

Without even waiting for his cue, he just whipped off his shirt. Anne bit her lip and tried to ignore the sudden throbbing between he legs as she saw his muscles ripple. "You care about the rest, babe?" he asked breathily.

"Not particularly," she told him, his forehead pressed against hers. "But . . . But we can't have sex, okay?"

He grabbed her arms and slammed her against the nearest wall. She let out a small squeak, her hands suddenly pressed against his bare chest. "Loads o' other things we can do 'sides sex . . ." he murmured, his mouth so close to hers that they were sharing breath.

"Spike . . . Spike, I . . ." she managed, her heart beating so hard she worried it would burst out of her ribcage. "I only kissed . . . with Snape . . . What if I suck?" She was running his hands along his chest, tiny moans escaping between her laboured breaths.

His calloused hands were running up and down her arms. "Don't worry, babe . . . I'm guessin' you're a fast--"

POOF!

"Oh son of a **FUNKY** bitch!" Anne yelled, glaring at the vengeance demon that randomly appeared.

Spike pulled away and glared as well. "Really, you have the worst sodding timing," he growled.

"What?"

"Well we were about to snog," Spike answered, scowling at her. "You know . . . for cliché purposes, obviously."

Anne nodded, knowing her cheeks were bright red. "Right. Only for story purposes, of course."

The bleached girl sighed. "Uh-huh. Well, anyway, I'm gonna stick you guys in the fic now."

And she snapped her fingers.

**Next time: What, exactly, is the plot of the fic they should've been living in? What sort of language is allowed in a T rated fic? And why is Willow so interested in eating Spike's sausage?**

* * *

A/N--Merciful Zeus! It's been forever since I updated. Sorry 'bout that. Consider yourself lucky you're not a reader of my HP fics. If you think it's been forever for THIS story . . .


	14. Rated T

**Previously on _Sparkle, Sheen:_**

**"I've got a loverly bunch o' coconuts, deedly-deedly," Xander shouted, skipping down a yellow-brick road, with his hair in pigtails and his blue dress swaying in the breeze.**

**Willow nibbled on the end of her finger (made of straw, obviously) and hummed to herself. "I was always fond of the lime-in-the-coconut song, to be honest."**

**Giles attempted to walk, irritated by the clanking his metal feet made. "Honestly, this makes no amount of sense whatsoever."**

**Oz sighed, then looked behind him to see the lion's tail he swiched back and forth. "I was sorta hoping to be the Wizard."**

**Onto the fic, please.**

Chapter 13: Rated T

Willow stumbled through the park, chugging a mixture of vodka and tequila straight out of a two-litre bottle that was normally used for soda. "Oooooh woe is meeeeeeee!" she wailed, tripping over her feet. "I am skunk of a drunk elle oh elle!"

Despite the fact Willow generally didn't drink, and that if anybody drank a two-litre bottle of straight vodka mixed with tequila in reality she would probably drop dead of alcohol poisoning, she tossed the now-empty bottle aside.

"Hey, Red," Spike greeted, walking into view. He scratched the back of his head. "Um . . . Right, have you seen two kids wanderin' 'round? One's a chit, gorgeous tits, nice full mouth, the other's a bloke about this high, an'--"

"Spikey-Wikey Pooh Bear!" she exclaimed, skipping over to him. She clutched the front of his leather jacket. "Make hot sexy love to me right now! Let's skip eighty chapters of development!"

Spike blinked. "Uh, not that I'm not flattered, but you seem to be three sheets to the wind, and--"

She grabbed his crotch through his jeans and blinked pointedly at him. His voice faltered and he smirked. "You were saying?" she asked.

Shrugging, Spike started snogging her right then and there, while she pleasured him through his pants. A few seconds later, he pulled his mouth from hers. "Wait, wait a mo' . . . aren't you . . . y'know . . . Gay?"

"I prefer sausage over taco," she said with a shrug. She raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you prefer . . . tacos?"

"Hell yeah," he said, grinning. "Want me to have some o' yours?"

She smiled. "Okay!" She reached behind her back and pulled out a taco. She handed it over to him. "Here ya go!" Spike blinked at the taco in his hand, then he started munching it, stepping away from her so he could enjoy his dinner.

"Anyway, so what were you saying about two kids?"

Spike tilted his head. "I dunno. I was talking about kids? I thought we were gonna shag?"

"This story is only rated T. Which means I can only make sexual innuendoes that never lead anywhere. Because God knows nobody's ever heard of a fade-to-black scene. Also, we're both virgins, and are saving ourselves 'til marriage."

"Oh, right. I 'member clearly now. I never once stuck my hoo-dilly in Dru's cha-cha." He hummed merrily as he munched his taco. "Wanna go for some ice cream?"

"Okay!" Willow agreed, hopping excitedly, her pig-tails bouncing as well as her tiny-as-hell schoolgirl skirt. Her breasts bounced too, and she was only wearing a lacy white bra. "I wanna lick some white cream all night long!"

Spike smirked. "And Willow, baby, I think your taco is the sweetest I've ever had."

She reached into Spike's pants pocket, and pulled out a sausage. She ran her tongue up the sides provocatively, and proceeded to deep-throat the meat, winking at Spike sexily. "And I really like your sausage."

* * *

Anne and Kurt stood in the cemetery, rubbing their own arms. They looked around themselves, just as a bunch of boxes fell from the sky. They looked around at all of the headstones, waiting for Spike to appear. "Um . . . So what, did he . . . stay?" Anne asked.

"Why the hell would I bleedin' know?" Kurt demanded, scowling. "I was gettin' myself some big-tittied sex right after you disappeared. Harmony is one freaky bitch."

"Well . . . It's just weird, he's usually with us. Because of him drinking some of my blood and all."

Kurt nodded. "Yeah, I know. It's weird. So what cliché do ya think this is?"

"Well, that vengeance demon girl appeared just as I was about to snog Spike. It was kinda annoying. But anyway, she popped us into the actual story. Maybe the mystical power my blood had is gone now? You know, like that Daisy girl said."

"Well we're in the cemetery. Why don't we just pop 'round to his crypt and--"

"Holy crap!" Buffy shouted, stepping out of the mist. "Look at you two helpless people who conveniently have boxes of clothing beside them! I feel so sorry for you! Hey, why don't you stay with my Watcher and become part of the Scooby gang? Vampires and demons are real, be tee double-you."

Kurt blinked. "Uh . . . Cool?"

* * *

"Y-Yes, w-well I n-never . . . It's not a-as though th-this has ever h-happened before," Giles stuttered over the phone. Kurt and Anne sat on the couch, watching him talk on the phone to Joyce. "And a-about that I er apologize um . . . It was not my in-intention to . . . It's m-more of a compliment that I, w-well, you know." He nodded once. "Oh, good. I thought you would never want to . . . I mean, after yesterday's issue . . . But you'll . . . Do it again sometime? That's lovely. Yes, well . . . I have a matter I need to attend to at the moment. Thanks Joyce." He hung up the phone, and immediately pulled out his glasses to start polishing them. "Sorry about that. I had . . . to talk to Joyce about . . . er . . . something."

"What about?" Kurt asked, lounging against the back of the couch.

"Well, I . . . yesterday, I came early, and put a load all over her face."

Kurt snorted back his laugh, coughed, then couldn't help but laugh hysterically. Anne was laughing along with her brother. "Way to go Giles!" Kurt exclaimed, pumping a fist in the air.

Giles, still polishing his glasses, furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "I don't necessarily see what is so humorous about the situation. I arrived at her house earlier than she expected, and when I rounded the corner it shocked her--as she was carrying a load of laundry--and therefore she jumped and dropped all of the clothes on her face. I felt so horrible about the situation."

Kurt and Anne slowly stopped laughing, and blinked stupidly at Giles. "Oh. I thought you were talkin' about sex."

"Oh, heavens no. I've never had sex, for I have never been married," Giles stated with a small chuckle.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "O . . . kay . . ."

Buffy walked out of the bathroom, frowning sadly. "Well, Giles, it seems like you don't have a spare room for these two helpless people to stay in."

"Are you sure? I thought that I would . . . After all, this is a rather nice sized house, it seems silly to have two floors and yet only one room . . ."

Buffy nodded dutifully. "Scout's honour, Giles. You don't have a spare bedroom."

Giles (who was still polishing his glasses, mind you) hummed to himself. "That is ever so strange. I feel horribly about not being able to house my niece and nephew."

"What?" Anne asked, ignoring that strange looks Giles and Buffy were giving her. "How are we your niece and nephew? We're not even related to you."

Giles laughed pompously. "Oh, dearest Anne, you and your brother are English, just as I am. Don't you know that anybody with an accent similar to mine is related to me?"

Buffy joined Giles in his pompous laughter.

As they laughed (and Giles continued to polish his glasses) the door opened and Xander and Anya walked in, holding hands. "Hello, everyone. Xander just ate at the Y," she stated.

"Oh, the restaurant by the Bronze?" Buffy asked.

"Yep," Xander said. "In return for the favour, Anya gave me head!" With that, he pulled out a demon's severed head from behind his back, and tossed it at Buffy.

"Oh, cool! Neato! I gave head to Giles the other day!" With that, Giles whipped out a head from behind his back, and tossed it to Buffy, so he could return to polishing his glasses. "Hey! Giles, be careful!" she exclaimed as she caught the other head with the same hand she was holding the other head in (somehow.) Because of that, both heads touched. "We just bumped uglies!"

Willow and Spike walked into Giles' apartment, holding hands. "Oh, hey everyone," Willow greeted. "I just gobbled Spike's sausage and he munched on my taco." She rubbed her tummy. "I sure am full. That was a pretty good dinner."

Anne rubbed her temple. "This is getting pretty ridiculous."

"Oh, Spike, I forgot to tell you . . ." Xander began, going over to Spike and casually putting his hand on Spike's shoulder. "Thanks for the shag, man. It was really great."

Spike shrugged. "Don't worry about it, mate. I didn't need that carpet, anyway. Besides, it matched your seventies theme. What, with the disco ball an' all."

Kurt nodded slowly. "Yeah, sis. This really is getting sodding ridiculous."

Spike turned to look at both of them. "Oi, who are they, Rupes?"

"My niece and nephew, of course," Giles stated, still (you guessed it) polishing his glasses.

Spike chose that moment to start making out with Willow. They moaned pleasurably as they snogged, but their hands always stayed in respectable places.

Anne scoffed and pointedly looked away from them, twiddling her thumbs with a scowl on her face.

Anya let go of Xander's hand and sat beside Kurt. They smiled at each other, Kurt casually draping his arm around her shoulder. She nodded and giggled.

Then she pulled a beaver out of her pocket, and started shaving it.

* * *

Seeing as Giles was a gentleman (or some other reason, Anne didn't really care either way) he had given the bed to Anne and Kurt. Ever so maturely, they fought for about ten minutes about who got to sleep on it and who had to sleep on the floor, before they both realized they were being stupid and decided to both sleep on the bed. They both had their own blankets, and slept as far away from each other as they could without falling off of the bed.

Kurt was asleep within fifteen minutes, but Anne was wide awake. Sighing, she got off of the bed, only wearing Spike's black t-shirt (which was longish on her) and his black boxers. For some reason he had a pair of clothes at Giles', and they hadn't stopped to think about stealing nightclothes from the store they'd ripped off earlier.

She walked as quietly as she could out of the bedroom, and tip-toed down the stairs. Although all of the lights in the house were off, there was a small blue glow everywhere, making it easy for her to see where she was going.

She walked into the living room to see Giles asleep on the couch, still polishing his glasses. She shook her head and grabbed the remote from off of the coffee table.

"What're you doin' up?"

Anne jumped and covered her mouth to prevent herself from screaming. She spun to face Spike, who was in the kitchen. He turned on the switch, flooding the place with light. He was shirtless, and wearing grey sweats that hung low on his waist. Anne really didn't know why or where he got them, but she didn't care. He looked hot wearing them.

"Jet lag, or what-all?" he asked, taking a sip out of a mug that was most likely filled with blood.

"Um . . . Probably, yeah . . ."

He nodded, then put the mug in the sink. "You've got nice headlights."

"Um . . . Thanks?" She looked down at her boobs, not sure whether to be annoyed or grateful at the compliment.

Laughing, he walked over to her, gently grabbed her elbow, and led her to the window. He pushed the curtains aside and pointed at the cherry-red Jaguar on the street. "Headlights, luv. As in, your _car?"_

"Oh, right. Wait . . . I have a Jaguar?"

"Apparently. Would've been nicer to have a Viper, but that's still a damn nice car." He closed the curtains and nodded appreciatively. He looked back at her, his brows furrowed. "Huh. Do I know you from somewhere, luv?"

Anne shifted her weight onto her other foot. "Why do you ask?"

He reached forward and brushed a curly bang aside, then tilted his head to the side, as if studying her. "I dunno, I just . . . feel like I've met you before . . ."

"Double-you tee eff?" Willow snapped angrily. Anne spun around and saw the fiery red head. "Don't you be gettin' up on my Kool-Aid!"

"What?" both Anne and Spike said.

Willow snapped her fingers and bobbled her head. "Uh-uh! You dint jus' act like you be all in-oh-cent!" She stuck her hands out in front of her. "You are trying to seduce my boyfriend! I'm about to get super-Saiyan on your ass!"

"Super-_what?"_ Anne exclaimed. Willow started moving her hands around in what looked like a complicated way, and a ball of energy started forming between her palms. "I'm not trying to seduce him! He's--he's my--uh, dad! Yeah!"

Willow blinked. "He's your dad?"

"Yeah. I'm British, so obviously we're related, and my accent sounds more like his than Giles's!" Anne nodded enthusiastically, watching as the ball of power started to fade.

Willow lowered her hands, but still looked at her sceptically. "How is he your dad when he's a vampire?"

"Oh, um . . . A spell. Him and Dru found this spell that uh . . . allows vampires to conceive. It's really complicated," she invented wildly.

Willow nodded. "Oh. Well, that makes more sense that Giles having any sort of relatives." She merrily skipped off, humming to herself.

"We're not really related, are we? I think I'd remember you if we were," he said, as soon as Willow was gone.

"No, we're not," she told him.

"But we do know each other, yeah? You wouldn't have avoided the question if we didn't."

Anne nodded. "Well . . . Yeah." She rubbed the back of her neck, wincing when she felt the scabs on her neck. An idea struck her. "You can bite me, if you want. That might make you remember."

"Really? You think?"

She nodded. She tilted her head to the side and revealed her neck. Spike ran his finger down her flesh, then smirked before leaning forward.

Of course, that was when the door burst open. Raven stood on the other side. "Hey, guys, just made it--" Her black eyes fell upon Anne and her happy face fell. "You!" she screamed, pointing dramatically at Anne.

"What the fu--"

Raven shot Anne with a bolt of lightening. "I won't let you ruin this for me! Screw you!"

Spike tackled Raven to the floor. Anne twitched for a few seconds before she stood up, still jittery. She watched as Spike and Raven wrestled on the floor, in a very provocative manner. Anne wrinkled her nose in distaste, and chose to look instead at Giles, who was polishing his glasses in his sleep.

As they knocked over the table and yelled angrily at each other, Giles remained asleep, and Anne remained looking at the couch.

Finally there was a loud thwack and Raven stood up, kicking Spike's unconscious body aside. She ran at Anne and pinned her against the wall. "Listen, you stupid bitch, you screwed up everything in the HPverse, I will not let you ruin it here!"

Anne futilely tried to push Raven away, but failed. "So it really is you, then?" she spat.

Raven leaned so close to Anne that their lips were almost touching. Anne shuddered at the thought of how intimate that was. "You turned me into an ugly, average-looking . . . OC. I was all-powerful, and then I wasn't. Stuck in that helpless little bitch. I want Spike, and I'll have him, do you understand? That's why we're both chipped. Do you get me?"

Anne blinked, then smashed her forehead against Raven's nose. Blood spurted violently out of her orifice as Anne shoved the shocked Raven away. She started running, but a second later she was thrown through the air. She hit the wall and crumpled to the floor, groaning in pain.

Raven waved her hand over her face, and healed her broken nose. Anne shakily stood up, holding her injured side. She glanced over at Giles, who was still asleep (as amazing as that was) and polishing his glasses.

She raised her hand, and a large purple ball of energy started to grow.

Willow appeared in the living room. "You've just attacked my boyfriend's daughter! You're a bitch!"

Raven and Willow started shooting magic spells at each other. Anne looked over at Spike to see that he was still unconscious. Glancing quickly at Raven to see she was still busy, she hurried over to Spike's side and turned him over onto his back. Blood was trickling out of his nose, but only a little bit.

She gently tapped his cheek. His eyes opened slowly and locked onto hers. She cupped the side of his face. "Listen to me. Raven is a Mary Sue. Do you remember that? Do you remember that she isn't real?"

"What? Of course she is," he muttered. "I've known her since I was human."

She shook her head and stared deeper into his eyes. "No, you haven't. She's messing with your brain."

Spike narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "That's not true."

"What's her favourite word, Spike? Tell me what her favourite word is."

He opened his mouth to answer, but then he shut it. After a few seconds, he shook his head. "I don't know."

"And what's mine?"

He reached up and held the side of her face. "It's melancholy."

She contemplated pulling her face away from his hand, but decided against it. He had warm hands. She let out a slow breath and smiled.

And she was torn away from Spike. Raven was grasping her arm tightly, and dragging her to the door. Willow was out cold several feet away, so that was lost. When Spike stood up to go to Anne's aid, Raven shot him with a ball of energy.

"She's evil, Spike! She's lying to you! Whatever she said to you about me is a lie! I'll get rid of her, don't worry!" Raven shouted.

Anne elbowed Raven in the side, only to be thrown through the still open door. She hit the pavement and rolled, grunting out in pain. Raven ran towards her and grabbed a fistful of her messy blonde hair, then pulled her to her feet. Anne shrieked and grabbed Raven's wrist, trying to relieve the pressure on her head.

Spike stood in the doorway, apparently too confused to do anything.

"The effulgent poem! I liked it, remember? The twixt its wee beak sucked horribly though! Cecily shouldn't have said that to you! And your mum--you sired her, but she tried to--you know! Would I know that if you hated me? Would you tell that to just anybody?" she yelled, tears streaming down her face.

Spike started running towards Anne, but at that moment, she found herself in an entirely different place. It looked like a random cave.

Raven threw her to the ground. "The Gem of Amara protects me against the chip, so I can still hurt humans," she revealed, then kicked Anne's side.

Raven waved her hand, and Anne was magically thrown against a wall, and shackled to it with chains and manacles. "What are you gonna do Raven? You can't kill me."

"And why not?" Raven asked.

Anne smirked. "The reviews, Raven. You can't because of the reviews."

* * *

"We've gotta find her!" Spike exclaimed, yanking a half-asleep Kurt down the stairs.

"Wha . . . ?" he muttered, rubbing his eyes. "This . . . 'nother demon?"

Spike practically thrust Kurt into the chair. "Okay, now . . . Think o' somethin'. Time to find her."

Kurt nodded, then leaned his head against the chair again. "Yeah, totally. Find that bitch an' tear her 'ead off . . ."

Spike furrowed his brows. "What? I don't wanna tear her head off. I think . . . We were in love or somethin' . . ."

Kurt nodded. "Oh, right . . . Buffy . . . Prob'ly at the school."

Spike looked at Kurt, and nearly vomited. "What? Why in the hell would you think I was in love with Buffy? Are you bloody insane?"

"Drusilla?" Kurt mumbled.

"No, you sod, Anne. Your sister?"

Kurt opened his eyes slowly, then blinked. "You're in love with my sister?"

"I think. I dunno! She was . . . She was sayin' somethin' . . . an' I look at her an' I think I've seen her before. Someone's been messin' with my mind, 'cause I know I know her . . ." He put the heel of his hand against her forehead. "And I wouldn't tell anybody about my mum . . . She knew she didn't die of tuberculosis."

Willow frowned. "What? You mean she didn't? You said she did! And you're in love with your daughter?"

"She's not my sodding daughter, and before you ask I'm not tellin' you how my mum died an' why am I even dating you anyway? You're a lesbian."

Willow sighed and left the room.

Kurt scratched the top of his head. "And why are we talkin' about my sister again?"

"Raven took her."

Kurt blinked. "Well, then, we gotta save the ho."

* * *

Raven sighed as she looked at Anne, still chained to the wall. Raven had to admit, she could give some damn dirty looks.

"Can't torture me, can you? Oh, no, that would make you seem too harsh. The readers wouldn't _want_ you to get with Spike. And you certainly can't kill me, either. So what are we gonna do to pass the time?"

Raven sighed, then smirked evilly as a thought crossed her head. "You know, Susan read some of your fics. She read your profile. She's talked to . . . some of your friends online. Or at least read some of your reviews, and reviews people have given you."

"Oh, that's bloody amazing, really. Tell me more Raven."

With an evil laughter that sounded both beautiful and terrifying, she snapped her fingers.

* * *

Riley was on top of Buffy, currently making love to her. The sheets were draped over their bodies while he slowly brought her and himself to their peak. She was gasping and clutching at him. There was a flash of light that could have just been his imagination, but he was too busy to really think on it. "What . . . ?" she murmured, blinking in confusion. Just then, she arched her back and climaxed, her body tightening around him as she moaned and cried out in pleasure, thrusting against him quickly. It brought him to his full and he cried out as well.

Although her body was still clutching him and tightening around his body in pleasure, her eyes widened and the cries of pleasure turned into hysterical screams. She shoved him off of her, still clutching the blue sheets. She leapt of the bed, hiding herself form him.

"Uh, Buffy . . . ?" What was her deal?

She held the sheet to her body, then her eyes found his manhood. Her eyes widened, and she covered her eyes with the hand that wasn't pressing the sheet to her body. "No, no, no . . . oh my God, no . . . this isn't happening please God . . ."

"Buffy, is everything all right? Did . . . Did I do something wrong?" Ignoring him, she grabbed her clothes and started dressing herself. Riley got out of the bed, and noticed she had tears running down her face. "Buffy . . . Did I hurt you?"

"No. No, it's not . . . trust me, it's not . . . Um, please, I-I . . . oh my God . . ."

He put his hand on her shoulder and she jerked away from him and made a weird, shaky whine. Riley felt his spirits lower and it was like someone had stabbed him in the chest. "Buffy, I . . . I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to--"

She fell to her knees, half dressed, a hand covering her eyes, sobbing hysterically. Not knowing what to do, he grabbed the comforter that has been pushed aside and wrapped it around his waist. He knelt beside her and patted her shoulder. "Buffy . . . please . . . was this your . . . your first?"

"What?" she managed through her sobs. "How did you . . ."

"I thought you wanted to," he whispered.

"Riley, it's not . . . I'm not . . ." She let out a slow, shaky sigh. She looked at her, and smiled--although it did look a bit forced to him. "It's not you. I'm just . . . a little emotional . . . no, you didn't hurt me."

"Was it your . . . first time?"

She bit her lip. "I . . . no. I . . . was with . . . Parker, remember?"

"Oh . . . Did I trigger a bad memory?"

"But he wasn't my first. I have more class than . . . Uh, what? No, no . . . I just . . ." She wiped her tears away from her face. "Look, Riley . . ." Sighing, she leaned forward, and kissed his mouth gently. "I've just, uh . . . look, this might sound weird but . . ." She let out a sigh, and rubbed her eyes. "I can't . . . I just freaked out is all."

"Are you going to leave? You're half-dressed."

She blinked. "Um . . . Slayer stuff. I . . . had a slayer vision."

"You get Slayer visions?"

She nodded. "Yeah. In it, someone died . . ." She swallowed. "So . . . I gotta go . . ." She kissed him quickly. She dressed rapidly, then ran out of the door.

Riley sat on the floor, feeling as though his world was crashing. What the hell had happened?

* * *

"What do you mean, she doesn't exist? I just sodding saw her get bloody torn from the bleedin' place!" Spike yelled, kicking the couch, and glaring at Willow, who was floating in the air with electricity sparking off of her.

"Calm down, you don't even remember her . . ."

"But I knew her favourite word! I didn't know Raven's! An' she knew 'bout me mum!"

"Blah, blah, blah. Well I used something she owned," she gestured at a schoolgirl skirt that Spike really wanted to see her in, "and did a tracking thing and it says she's not existing."

"My sister exists!" Kurt yelled.

BAM! The door burst open and Buffy ran in.

"I had sex with Riley! Shoot me now!" she yelled out, falling to her knees and crying into her palms.

Spike blinked. "Yeah, I'd be cryin' too, luv. Say, have you seen a--"

"I'm Anne in Buffy's body! Raven stuck me there as revenge! While she was screwing Riley! Kill me! Please!"

"Damn. Anne, you okay? I know you hate him! And you're a virgin! Bloody hell! Your first with someone you hate! Damn!" Kurt exclaimed.

"And I . . . arrived! Why, God, why?"

"You hate Riley? I think I wanna marry you," Spike revealed happily.

"Oh, honey," Willow said sadly, patting Buffy's shoulder. "You're not in your body; this doesn't count."

Buffy (well technically Anne) slowly stood up. She wiped her tears away from her face. "We're finding Raven, and we're killing her."

Willow sighed, then jumped up, hollered, kicked her ankles together, and started spinning around while she sang the _South Park_ theme in a complete off-tune voice.

"Okay . . . cool . . ." Buffy muttered. "Find Raven and kill her."

Spike nodded firmly. "I know I have these memories o' me lovin' Raven but they've gotta be fake. I'd know her favourite word otherwise. But I'm gonna help you kill her . . . Because I hate people messin' with my head."

Willow stopped singing, then looked at Anne innocently. "Since I'm the super-smart Wicca chick, I can tell you how to separate yourself from Buffy's body. A fan being sucked into Buffy's body is a common fantasy, and all you have to do is end the cliché and then you'll be yourself again, even though this isn't a cliché--just a really bad fic."

"Okay, thanks Willow," Buffy (Anne) said, brushing her blonde hair away from her eyes. "So . . . How do I end the cliché?"

"Oh, come on, trick, you tellin' me you never thought about bein' sucked into Buffy's body? Please. How would you end it?" Kurt rolled his eyes. "I imagine it has something to do with snoggin' the hell outta Spike. But you know, whatever, I'm just your brother, I don't know you at all," he muttered sarcastically.

"I can't snog her," Spike stated, pointing at Buffy. "I'm currently dating Willow, and cheating is amoral, and this is a T fic."

"More like a K fic," Buffy muttered with an eye roll.

"But Willow is _gay,"_ Kurt stated, as if everyone in the room were mentally challenged.

Willow sighed and looked heavenward. "Not in this fic. Being gay is amoral."

Both Buffy and Kurt looked at Willow, aghast. Buffy put up both of her hands. "I'm not touching that with a ten foot pole," she muttered.

**Next time: Just how will Anne get back in her body? Who is Angel in love with? And what about curtains and drapes?**

* * *

A/N--Innuendoes are fun.


	15. Shut Up and Kiss Me

**Previously, on Sparkle, Sheen:**

**Spike: Bloody hell, how long has it been since you've updated?**

**(Camera: zoom on Cardio Necrosis)**

**CN: Hey man, I got hit by writer's block. And nobody's reading this POOP anyway.**

**FLASH!**

**Danielle sat in the Hogwarts Express, folding her arms moodily while Astoria pointedly ignored her by staring out the window. "You think _you_ have it bad," Danielle complained, tossing her sheet of red hair over her shoulder, "try being in _The Mistake of Benevolence."_**

**FLASH!**

**CN: Oh come on, that story was crap.**

**Danielle: _(voice over)_ And I've been on this train for like two years. I have to piss.**

**FLASH!**

**Wilson scribbled his signature on his Very Important Paperwork while House basked in relative silence, feet crossed on the desk. "Well, luckily for us, she only posts hilson fics when she's actually finished them," House bragged.**

**Wilson nodded to concede his point. "That's true. Get your feet off my desk."**

**FLASH!**

**Danielle scoffed. "Oh, way to be mature and rub it in my face. I've been waiting to see my boyfriend, Severus, for _two sodding years."_**

**FLASH!**

**Spike: You're sodding kidding me.**

**Danielle: _(voice over)_ Nope. I think I've been on this train longer than we've been dating.**

**Spike: No, I meant you're dating Snape? Innit he stuck on Lily?**

**Danielle: _(voice over)_ Well I look like her.**

**FLASH!**

**House burst out laughing. "Yeah, that relationship's gonna fail."**

**FLASH!**

**Danielle stood angrily from her seat. "Go to hell! What do you know about-"**

**Just then, a disembodied voice that sounded exactly like Cardio Necrosis filled the compartment, saying; "Actually I had intended for the two of you to break up and for you to spiral into a fit of bitter ineptitude. Also, you just pissed yourself."**

**Laughter from multiple fandoms crossed over, uniting together in a Fight Against Procrastination.**

**And now, on with the fic.**

Chapter 14: Shut Up And Kiss Me

"What? You can't dump me! This is totally unfair!" Willow shouted, stomping her feet a little.

Spike sighed and shook his head. "Well I just chucked you, so yeah, seems like I can."

"But . . . But . . . This story sucks!" Willow snapped, then folded her arms and left Giles' house immediately.

Kurt, Buffy, and Spike all shared looks. "Well, guess she took that a bit hard," Buffy (technically Anne) said.

Spike shrugged. "I'm soulless and evil so I don't care. Anyway, so . . . You're his sister, but in Buffy's body, yeah?"

"Right. And the only way to get out is to end the cliché, which Kurt pointed out is probably kissing you, which makes sense since . . . Well, why else would I be stuck in her body in a cliché other than to kiss you? Unless this is a bangel and I know it's not a ruffy 'cause I just . . ." Her face turned a light shade of green and she pressed her hand against her stomach. "Ugh . . . I think I'm gonna vomit . . ."

"So I take it you're not a fan o' Riley then?"

She shook her head and Kurt laughed. "Hell no, she hates his guts. She was always all into you and Buffy getting it on."

"What the hell? Me an' Buffy?" He glanced at Buffy (who was technically Anne) with a disgusted face. "Who in their right mind would wanna pair us up together? That right there makes me wanna heave, if you wanna know the truth."

Kurt snorted. "Yeah, okay, wait about a year an' see how much you wanna heave then." Spike glared at him, not sure what the bloke meant by that, but not really wanting to find out, either. "But I guess you're probably still all 'eww, gross, I got Buffy taste in my mouth' 'cause of the Will It So spell, so yeah, season four, blah, blah." He shrugged.

"What Will It So spell?" Spike asked, completely confused.

Buffy and Kurt shared a look, and then she tilted her head. "Wait, Buffy and Riley are having sex, Willow is over Oz and dating you, and you haven't even gotten the Will It So spell done on you yet? You know, with the whole engagement thing and the _Wind Beneath My Wings_ and the, y'know . . . Giles being blind?" Buffy said, as if he was missing something obvious.

"I dunno what you're talkin' 'bout, luv, but seems like you wanna get outta that body, yeah, so why don't you get over here an' plant me a big one? I've got tons of experience. Might be a little squicked out, since you're in Buffy's body an' all."

Buffy nodded, then took a few steps forward. "Okay," she muttered, and her cheeks turned a bright red.

Spike felt a little sick at the thought of kissing Buffy, even though he knew it was actually that girl whose favourite word he knew. Still, he didn't remember knowing her, and he hadn't really thought much about her in the first place, and probably because the author of the story was a massive prude, he didn't really feel much like snogging her.

They stood in front of each other. He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a quick peck on the lips.

She blinked a few times, then stepped away form him, still blushing. "So . . . Um, yeah, I'm still Buffy."

"You call _that_ a kiss? Are you serious? Trick, you'd better not be thinking of wasting a kiss on the dude you've pined over since you were twelve years old. Shove your tongue down his throat and look like my sister again 'cause I don't really like having someone fit as all hell as my sister so get out!"

"It's a bit slutty to go around snogging people you don't know, don't you think?" Spike reasonably pointed out.

Kurt and Buffy stared at him for a long second, then all of a sudden, they both started laughing. Kurt held onto his side and leaned against the nearest wall.

"I'll have you know that I just dumped my girlfriend, don't you think that's a little soon to be kissing someone with tongue?"

Kurt and Buffy only laughed harder.

"Well sod off, both of you!"

Buffy stood up straighter and wiped tears from her eyes, still chuckling to herself. "All right, all right, sorry-it's just, hearing _you_ say that is a bit funny . . ." He folded his arms over his chest petulantly. Buffy sighed. "Okay, okay, we'll find some other way to get me outta this body. I mean, I kissed you and it didn't work, so obviously that's not it."

Kurt scoffed again. "Right, 'cause that was a kiss, lemme tell you. I think the Virgin Mary just called you both prudes."

"Look, a kiss is a kiss, and if he's not comfortable with using tongue, I'm not gonna make him," Buffy stated, and Spike smiled gratefully at her.

Spike stared at Buffy, who was standing arms' length away from him, and shifted his weight onto his other foot. She furrowed her brows at him after he stared at her for a long while. "What?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest. "Why are you staring at me?"

Spike stared into her green eyes, and looked over her body, trying to remember just how different she looked from Anne. He thought about Anne, about her messy, dirty-blonde hair and her blue eyes and full lips. He thought about the way she'd sounded with her English accent, and how it differed from Buffy's American one. He thought about how she'd offered to let him bite her neck without hesitation.

She knew about his mum and he knew her favourite word.

Why didn't he want to kiss her? It was like someone was forcing him to not like her. How did that make sense? How could some unseen force have control over his emotions?

"I dunno," he finally answered, furrowing his brows a bit.

"Oh my God what if it _is_ bangel?" she gasped, her face scrunching up in disgust.

Kurt laughed and pointed at Anne. "Bangel! I would laugh so hard, trick!"

"Is that some sort o' breakfast food?"

She walked over to him and grabbed his shoulder. "You've gotta take me to LA. I need to talk to Angel."

"Like hell I'm goin' to talk to that pouf."

Buffy raised an eyebrow at him. "If you don't, I'll tell everybody about that one time you two were intimate."

* * *

Spike drummed on the steering wheel to the beat of the music that thrummed through the car, bopping his head while he brutally murdered the song with his singing. Kurt and Anne were currently joining him in rocking out-Kurt was stomping his feet in the back, while Anne (still in Buffy's body) was pounding on the dashboard rhythmically.

"Duh nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh nah! Duh nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh-nuh nah! Duh nuh nuh duh nuh nuh nah!" they all vocalized, Buffy bopping her head so much her hair swung around her face and swirled in the wind from the open window, the night air cool on her face. "Beat on the brat, beat on the brat, beat on the brat with a baseball bat oh yeah! Oh yeah, oh oh!"

"Hell yeah trick! Turn this **FUNKY MUSIC POOP** up!" Kurt shouted from the back.

* * *

Buffy (technically Anne) was leaning her entire torso out of the car, wind whipping past her hair, yelling out in pure enjoyment. "Hell yeah poppets! I am **FUNKY** Iron Man!"

"Oi! Get your arse back in here luv! You fall outta that window an' I'm not givin' a toss about your hide! Won't stop to help you up! Won't even bother picking up the tattered bits o' your flesh and bone!" Spike shouted, then grabbed the back of her shirt and yanked her into the car.

She let out an odd noise as he forced her into the seat, causing the car to swerve until he righted its position on the road. "Oh come on I woulda been fine," she said with an eye-roll.

"Your clumsy arse woulda fallen out! You can't even walk down stairs without fallin', ya slag."

"Oh, shut up-that was once!" she shot over her shoulder.

* * *

"Oi, Spike, you best not be listenin' to Bon Jovi otherwise I'm gonna reach over the back of this seat and rip your ears off!" Kurt exclaimed loudly, kicking the back of Spike's driver's seat.

The car swerved. "Kurt, if you make us get in a wreck, I'll resurrect your dead body just to beat your head in!" Buffy spat angrily, grabbing onto the dashboard to keep herself steady.

"Sup, whatever, you'd be dead too, ho," he growled.

"Nuh-uh, 'cause I'm a slayer now, and I'd so live. And so would Spike and I know he'd kill you for ruining the Desoto."

"I'd slice open your stomach and strangle you with your innards-chip or not," Spike agreed.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You couldn't even blow off Buff's head with a shotty, loser. And as for you, trick, I'd so kill you before you got near me, slayer or not!"

"Tch, whatever, I would like totally shank you and slit your throat with my super-awesome slayer powers."

Spike scoffed and glanced over his shoulder. "I happen to like _Bad Medicine," _Spike announced, a bit later than he should've.

"Nit," Kurt muttered and kicked the back of his seat again.

"When did I try to off the slayer with a shotgun?"

* * *

The car screeched to a halt in front of a dingy detective agency and Buffy hopped out of the car, breathing heavily. She listened to the two car doors slam as Spike and Kurt stepped out. "I get dibs on shotgun, no erasies, on the way back," Kurt stated quickly with a smirk in Buffy's direction.

"Really only fair luv-you got the ride up front on the way to this hellhole," Spike stated with a shrug.

Buffy's upper lips curled. "Okay, so what, I just . . . ask Angel politely if I can snog him? 'Cause . . . You know, not much for the whole . . . snogging of . . . Broodmaster 2000."

"Is it his overhanging brow? Makes him look like a caveman, you ask me," Spike interjected with a small chuckle.

Kurt scoffed. "You got more of a fivehead than he does."

"Do not," Spike spat.

"Do."

"Not."

"Do," Kurt insisted.

Spike glared. "Not."

"Not." Kurt smirked.

"So we agree, then," Spike said haughtily.

Buffy raised her eyebrows at her brother. "You know that never really works in reality. Wow is it weird to hear my words in Buffy's voice or what? So, it shouldn't be hard. Just massage his tongue with mine. Like I did with Snape. Okay. Simple."

"It's just snogging, luv-shan't be too hard."

"So, what, your little peck on the lips was far more impressive, huh?" Kurt taunted.

Spike narrowed his eyes. "I just broke up with my girlfriend, I'll have you know."

Kurt scoffed. "You're a prude."

"Am not!"

Kurt tilted his chin back. "Oh yeah? Do your curtains match the rugs?"

"Well, yeah. House décor is important to me-feng shui an' all, yeah?"

"I think he just proved his point," Buffy said with a shrug. "Okay, I'll just stroll in and kiss him. I'm Buffy. Angel will totally kiss back." She let out a long breath, then strolled towards the detective agency, Spike and Kurt following.

She pushed the door open and walked in. She looked around, but saw no one. "Dammit, gotta take the forty-minute-long ride in the elevator." She sighed sadly.

"Nuh-uh, not in Angel-verse, 'cause that film is sped up," Kurt pointed out.

"Oh, yeah."

"Angel-verse?" Spike inquired, confused.

Kurt sighed as they walked over to the elevator, running a hand through his fro-ish hair. "You know, 'cause he has his own TV show."

Spike froze. "What? That git has his own TV show? Son of a bitch!"

They stood in the elevator and Buffy pressed the down button, folding her arms with her face resolutely impassive. Spike grumbled quietly to himself while he folded his arms. When the elevator hit the bottom, the doors opened and Buffy took a step out. Angel, Cordelia, Doyle, and Wesley all stared at them. "Spike?" they all exclaimed in surprise.

Buffy walked over to Angel, grabbed his head, and kissed him. Angel immediately started tonguing her like no tomorrow. Buffy nearly gagged, but responded because she knew she had to. Finally she pulled away. "Am I myself again?"

Angel blinked. "Buffy? You look as you normally do. But I've gotta say, I've sorta moved on, and I'm in love with-"

"Blah, blah, blah," she muttered, waving her hand dismissively, then setting her sights on Wesley. She grinned and let out a little giggle. "This is a far better prospect," she said, strolled over to Wesley, grabbed him, and kissed him roughly.

Wesley's arms moved around her like he didn't know what to do, then he melted into the kiss and she hummed a little, feeling a little stupid but liking it much better than snogging Angel. She pulled away a moment later, stared into his aghast face, then looked down at her small boobs. "Dammit, still Buffy," she grumbled.

"Oy, there, ya kissin' everyone or wha?" Doyle asked.

"No one in their right mind would pair him up with someone other than Cordy, Anne," Kurt warned with both of his eyebrows raised.

Buffy furrowed her eyebrows. "I just realized my name is the same as Buffy's middle one. And obviously anyone who writes Dumbledore shooting sherbet lemon out of a gatling gun isn't in her right mind, so pucker up Doyle."

She walked up to the Irishman and kissed Doyle, only massaging his tongue with hers briefly. Then she pulled away and smiled awkwardly. He rubbed the back of his neck. "No offence lass, but I've got a thing for Princess here," Doyle said, pointing over his shoulder at Cordelia.

"Oi, Anne, you should snog Cordy just for good measure," Spike suggested, sticking a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it up.

Kurt glanced at him. "Mind if I bum one?"

Spike tossed a cig at Kurt, who caught it and stuck it in his mouth. He leaned forward and let Spike light up the smoke, and they both began smoking.

Buffy, who had looked like she'd been considering kissing Cordy, shook her head. "No, being gay is amoral, remember? Susan is a homophobe and so, therefore, is Raven, and this fic." She let out a sigh and rolled her eyes upward. "Well, I could go kiss Xander, Giles, and . . ."

"Spike again, but with tongue?" Kurt muttered with an eye-roll.

"You know, generally, in third person, you can only describe what one person is doing and feeling unless she is watching the other person do it. Otherwise it kinda makes the reader motion-sicky," Cordelia pointed out, suddenly a font of **FUNKY** knowledge. Everybody stared at her. "What? I got high SAT scores."

"I read a Buffy/Caleb once," Kurt pointed out.

Buffy scoffed. "He doesn't exist yet. And why would you do that?"

"Wanted to read a better death scene than the crap Joss gave him. He deserved like a ten minute brawl. Sup."

Buffy sighed, then shook her head. "Guess I'm going back to Sunnydale; finding out who I'm supposed to kiss. Angel, good luck with . . . whoever you're in love with. Doyle, bring a gun with you to the ship, and blow up the light that way-by the way, I'm totally for you getting with Cordy. I don't know why Wesley's here, but your dad is a prick, and Cordy, don't take up the chance to go to heaven. Angel, don't sleep with Darla, if you ever have a kid named Connor, Wesley, don't steal him and . . . uh, if you get the chance to go to Pylea, take it, and save Fred-Wes, you flirt with her a bit, and I swear to God if you _ever_ meet a nerdy-ass Wolfram and Hart employee by the name of Knox, _beat the __**POOP **_outta him, and don't let Fred near a sarcophagus."

"I'm in love with Faith," Angel stated randomly.

Buffy nodded. "Makes sense."

* * *

Buffy bit her knuckle and stared at Xander and Giles. "Okay, don't flip out, okay?" she said, then strolled over to Giles and kissed him. The kiss was brief and awkward, then they both pulled away. Giles whipped off his glasses and polished them, before stuttering and wandering away.

"I can't kiss you. I'm dating Anya," Xander said.

"Break up with her, then get back with her after the kiss," Kurt stated with a shrug. "And if you feel like snogging me as revenge, Anya, go right ahead." He waggled his eyebrows.

Xander sighed and rolled his eyes. "I break up with you Anya."

Anya rolled her eyes. "Oh God, how could you, blah, blah." She glanced down at her watch. "You've got ten seconds to kiss her. Now, it's time to make you jealous! Kurt, get over here. You can only kiss me for ten seconds though."

Kurt practically lunged at her and shoved his tongue down her throat.

Xander and Buffy started kissing, Buffy mentally counting to herself in her head. When she reached ten, she pulled away to see Anya and Kurt practically groping each other. They pulled away, Anya wiping off her mouth with the back of her hand, then she turned back to Xander. "Let's get back together now," she said, looping her arm with his.

"I'm still Buffy. Every het ship and I'm still Buffy! What the hell?"

Anya, Xander, and Giles disappeared, mainly for convenience.

"Convenient for someone other than me, apparently. I like snogging Anya," Kurt grumbled. "Things always seem to go in Anne's favour in these situations. She's stuck in a slayer's body. I haven't gotten a good shag since sodding Bellatrix-well, and Harmony, but I didn't get to finish-and now I'm stuck in a prude world and she's kissing people and blah, blah, blah. When are we gonna get to the action? And I swear to God if _any_ giant penises prance in here singing to the tune of _Dragon Tales_ I'm gonna murder someone." He looked up to notice Spike and Buffy were looking at him. "Dude, just snog Spike proper-like. You'll get turned back to your ugly ho self."

"Oi, that was a bit rude to say to your soddin' sister, yeah? Cor mate wank bullocks loo brolly shag snog nit git Michael sodding Caine." He tilted his head to the side. "Now, that was odd."

Buffy showed Kurt the back of her two fingers. "Jog on, fatboy," she snapped. "Maybe we should give the kiss another try. Unless . . . Well, maybe this is some other cliché. Or maybe I'm stuck forever. Or maybe Raven will somehow grow a heart and change me back. I mean, I don't know what she's tryin' to accomplish, 'cause it was just me screwing Riley I thought, but . . . She said she read my profile and was tryin' to make me angry . . . I hate Buffy/Riley, and I don't like bangel . . ."

"What's bangel?"

"Buffy and Angel getting together," Buffy answered absently. "You don't think I have to have sex with the right guy? Maybe that's what Raven the Sue wants."

"In the prude story? It's rated T, remember?"

"Oh, right. Well, Raven herself isn't T rated-not in the HPverse anyway . . . Something's wrong . . . Something's different from last time . . . Can't be shagging left and right and snogging random people and gettin' pounded by ten-inch Ron Jeremy dicks like the one Sirius Black has or giant penises saving our arses . . ."

Spike scoffed. "You two are so single-minded. One track thoughts. It's all about sex and snogging to you. Maybe there's a bit more to life than that, yeah? Like love an' all."

"Well, yeah, in a well-written story, not the crap Susan pulls outta her arse and calls good writing," Buffy muttered with an eye-roll. "I mean, if that were the case, I'd be myself already-I love you, everybody knows that, you were like my first fictional character crush, so . . ."

Spike tilted his head. "Wait, what? You love me?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "In the same way she loved Snape, but more epically. Yeah, blah, blah, tell us somethin' new."

Spike grabbed Buffy's shoulders and forced her to look at him. "Say it again."

She looked at him. "I love you," she said slowly and confusedly; she even withdrew slightly.

She twitched and PLOP! She was back to her normal self. She looked down at her less-attractive body, but the one she was used to. With a smile and a familiar sigh, she ran her hand though her crappy hair and hummed to herself. "Well, now this is so much better and thank God I'm British again. Sodding. Bloody. Snog, wank, bullocks. Sounds so much better in this voice."

Kurt tilted his head. "Saying you loved him was . . . the cliché ender. Oh."

Anne tilted her head, her messy hair falling in front of her eyes. "Huh. Makes sense. Susan is . . . Well, you know, still pretty young and into the whole riding-off-into-the-sunset stuff so it's more than just shagging-it's about love and stuff."

"You meant it."

"Well it's not like I'm in love with you like that or anything. You're a fictional character," she explained, and she waved her hand in the air as if she were brushing aside her words nonchalantly. "But anyway, now that I'm back to my normal self, we should go find Raven, and mutilate her."

"I second that **POOP**," Kurt said and raised his hand.

"Sounds like a plan to me," Spike agreed, then grabbed his head and started shrieking hysterically.

* * *

**Next time: Why is Kurt snogging Raven? Why is the fic breaking the fourth wall? And who is that guy saving Spike?**


End file.
